Christmas Forties (of beer)

After I posted about the Christmas Theft, I wanted to post something nice- tis the season after all.

This morning I went for a little fitness run, get my cardio on and poppin’ and I ran past two homeless gentlemens; these two gents are not strangers to me or my neighborhood. They are always out there, sitting around together smoking the ‘grass’ and reading books. Seriously- reading books! Those two hobos must be the most well read men in San Diego. Every morning when I walk my dog the one in the wheel chair smiles and waves at me, then goes back to his book. His friend says “Good morning beautiful” or “Hello pretty girl” (I think he might be a parrot in a grown man suit) and waves at me with his big toothless grin. So sweet!

Today I went running by and the wheel chair man started waiving at me from about 10ft away. So I smiled and waved back, and his buddy gives me the biggest, most homeless smile I’ve ever seen and holds up his forty of Budweiser! I gave them both a big smile and thumbs up for the beer and kept going. As I was running I got to thinking about what would make their Christmas bright. Easy: some forties and books. If those two smelled better I would probably go join their book club in a hot second. Beer and books- what’s better then that?! So before I head home for the holidays, I’m going to drop off a good book and a nice bottle of booze (I mean, a forty of Old E is nice booze to a homeless guy) so they can get a warm, holiday buzz.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays to all from Miss Funs :)

PS- I just thought of this poem:

These two homeless guys are hilarious

They love me

I love them

They drink 40's at 11am

I think that's a haiku. The end.

Twas a Christmas Theft

Ok, so listen: I was going about my usual ‘Errand Monday’ completing all the meaningless tasks I assign myself to pretend I am a functioning member of society when something craaaazy happened. As I was headed out of our local grocery, I noticed the girl in front of me was carrying some t-shirts. The tags were still on said t-shirts and as I was reading the back of her sweatshirt, she snatched up a poinsettia plant and ran for the door. She busted out and jumped into her red piece of shid tracker and sped away. The alarm in the store was beeping and she was getting away! I witnessed a THEFT during ‘errand Monday’ and you know what? I didn’t do a damn thing about it.

I should have said something, or even ran after her (no way) but I had a full cart of groceries and I really don’t like to get involved in those types of things. And in any case, it's the grocery store’s fault for putting their prized merchandise (over sized Chargers t-shirts and poinsettia plants) right at the front where any wandering sticky fingers can get at them and bolt. But I didn’t do anything…I just headed down the ramp and stared at her through the window trying to give her the ‘that just isn’t right’ look that only moms and Mexican janitors at elementary schools can give.

And furthermore, who steals at Christmas time?! I mean…tis NOT the season for stealing dummy. Then I got to thinking that maybe she couldn’t afford the gifts she had thefted; but, when I thought back to the scene of the crime and viewed it slo-mo  (in my mind) I remembered that she was wearing Ugg boots, Juicy sweatpants and a Honolulu sweatshirt. Those are all pricey items of clothing, unless you get them at Goodwill OR STEAL THEM! And if she had the ca$h monay to pay for a trip to Honolulu in which she purchased an expensive island hoodie, then she can afford a Charger’s t-shirt here on the main land. Maybe she just gets a rush from stealing things, and I can understand that. I one time stole a plant from a grocery store maself. I did it for Mother’s Day ß now there’s a holiday when stealing is appropriate. Those arrangements are expensive! Only the best for my mom :)

All ‘n all I would have to say that I don’t blame that girl. The poinsettia plant is a nice gift to give someone but definitely not worth the $20. Those t-shirts, well…I would be pissed if I got me one as a gift but in the spirit of Christmas, I am going to pretend she was going to hand them out to the homeless instead of wear them all at once (or give them to me). So go on little girl, steal away, but just remember that Santa sees everything and he knows what you’re doing with those t-shirts. So watch your back, Grinch.

Side note: isn’t it odd that Santa can see everything you do? Sound familiar? Like someone ELSE who can apparently see everything you do?! I’m just saying there is an odd coincidence- both men, both have oddly long beards, both know if you’re naughty or nice, both have sons that may or may not be the Messiah…or whatever, this might be a thought for another day. I need a holiday drink.

----> this made me laugh: Christmas Criminal

A happy dilemma...

Woot woot! The impossible happened…I got the job! Amg thanks! ß I’m pretending you’re congratulating me, which you are.

Here are some awesome things: I would be getting a paycheck for more than circus peanuts. I probably don’t start until Jan. It is an awesome company providing me with full benefits. I would be doing something that I like and care about, and can dress in jeans everyday. J

Here are some not awesome things: I would be employed again and working 8a-5pm. I wouldn’t be able to stay home with my dog and see crazy homeless people all day long. I couldn’t sleep until 10am (let’s be honest, noon) every day anymore. J

I’m 95% sure I’m going to accept the position, but what will become of my little bloggy here? I’ll feel bad knowing that I’ve upset the one person that reads it. Let’s take a poll:

Please Vote:

1.     1. Continue the blog as Miss Funemployment even though I’m employed

2.    2. Change the title and blog about funny things at work --> Miss Funemployment Funemployed

3.     3. Discontinue the blog (boo)

4.     4.  Don’t accept the paying job and blog for donations (yay!)

5.    5. Have other funemployed guest bloggers (most likely not as funny as me, duh)

Vote away minions! And congrats to me J

Thursday's PSA

Listen up idiots of the Greater San Diego County: If you’re walking your dog and said dog is off its leash, then I am NOT responsible for my dog decapitating your dog. We are currently getting private lessons on not being such a b*tch, but honestly…Rome wasn’t built in a day. I know everyone in our residence hates us and thinks it’s wrong that we, for some reason, think we own the lobby, elevators and 5^th floor; however, when we get outside all bets are off. As a wonderful, careful and not to mention handsome (ah wink) handler, I do my absolute best to tell my dog that what she’s doing isn’t appropriate behavior for a lady. But once she is in the zone it is out of my hands. So once again, if your dog comes up to us uninvited for unsolicited butt sniffs, don’t expect a hug. Thanks for listening. The more you knoowww  ß that was Thursday’s PSA.

On a lighter note- I still haven’t heard back in regards to my last interview…so, goodbye cruel world. Just joking! I’m planning on going in tomorrow to occupy their lobby. Apparently it’s a new movement this ‘occupy’ thing and it is really catching on. Someone said it has been fairly affective in New York City and 99% of something can’t be wrong! After that imma occupy the bottom of a wine bottle- Happy Thursday J

Turkey Tiimmmee!

A.M.G (ah ma gah) it has been AGES since I’ve posted anything. I apologize to anyone (or just the one) that reads my blog. I have been all over the place lately. The last time you saw me I had just completed a riveting sales pitch for an interview at a company that I am really excited about…well GUESS WHAT?!...I still haven’t heard from them. Assholes.

I’m hoping they were all just very preoccupado with the short week before Thanksgiving, but they really, really want me to join their team and wanted to take the time to get me a welcome basket and presents before offering me the job. Seems reasonable. Thanksgiving is over though, so I’m assuming this will be the week- fingers crossed and funemployment forms lying on the shredder. Not shredded yet though- let’s not get ahead of ourselves now. HahayouknowwhatImsaying *elbow elbow

Speaking of Thanksgiving- I hope everyone had a nice time and ate some good ass turkey. I spent some time with my family and friends, but it did get me to thinking about working. I reckon everyone that went anywhere had to leave on Tuesday or Wednesday, assumedly taking a day off work to get to the intended destination. You enjoy the actual day of Thanks (yay), and then it is Friday (boo).

The Friday after Thanksgiving, in my professional opinion, is the dumbest day in the history of days. I mean…everyone in the United States is still in a turkey coma and trying to figure out how many pounds of mashed potatoes they would have to eat in order for potatoes to actually come out their ears, so why would anyone go to work? No one is thinking about business, they are thinking about how slow the day is going to be and how pointless working a day between a holiday and a weekend really is. Point.less. 

It also makes me mad because it cuts into the weekend and that always gets me riled up. Thanksgiving should be a party from Wednesday night through Sunday afternoon. When people have to work on Friday morning they don’t want to get turkey trotted (a.k.a mezzed up!) on Thursday night. After a massive dinner, the best thing to do is polish off a few bottles of wine while you break the wish bone, scoop sweet potatoes out of the dish with your hands and walk around with your pants unbuttoned for the next four hours. Instead, people complain about how they won’t be able to sleep because they are "so full", how they can’t have any more wine because they have to "drive home" and "work" and how the next workday is going to suck. And then in voicing all these complaints out loud they are completely ruining everyone else’s Thanksgiving night. Phew…so that’s what I think. And please believe that is the ONLY Friday that I will ever call dumb in my entire life!

I think that when I’m the CEO of my own company (most likely a company that will rescue injured birds and resell them on the black market for a high profit) that I will close my company from the Wednesday before Thanksgiving through the New Year. I mean….tis the season ;) 

Peanut Butter Jelly Time!

I had a second interview people! For this interview I had to go in and make a sales pitch in favor of Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches, and why someone should choose PB&J over a turkey sandwich. Here's my pitch with stage directions included:

This morning I’d like to start by saying that aside from the obvious fact that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches can be made by four-year olds and monkeys; there are many other reasons that our peanut-butter and jelly sandwich pounds the turkey sandwich when it comes to lunch time battles.

Let me ask you this question: would saving some time in the morning, or at any mealtime, be something that you’d look forward to and appreciate? (yes)

Well the classic PB&J is a timesaver! We have found that you will generally save about 2 hours a week just by creating a PB&J instead of a turkey sandwich. TWO HOURS! Wouldn’t that be nice?

This sandwich can be created in a Jiffy and bagged to go. You can quickly throw together a peanut butter and honey/jelly/nutella/banana sandwich on multigrain bread and you have a heart healthy meal- not to mention a sweet childhood memory!

It’s a timesaver but it’s boring eating the same peanut butter and jelly sandwich daily. Yes, some may argue that the turkey sandwich allows for more creativity as you can add more “extras”

 But let me ask this: have you heard of the ‘Regular Elvis’- peanut butter and banana with bacon, or maybe the ‘Black Elvis’- peanut butter, banana, bacon and nutella?

Maybe you’ve heard mention of the ‘Poo Bear’- peanut butter and honey or the ever-popular ‘Fools Gold’- peanut butter, raisins and some sugar. There are so many different ways to incorporate peanut butter and jelly into a sandwich it leaves the ingredients for turkey sandwiches crying on the sidelines.

Now let me ask you another question: would you like to save a CONSIDERABLE amount of money on lunches, food and groceries?

Let’s compare a pound of turkey, coming in on sale at around $6, to a pound of peanut butter and a jar of jelly coming in around $5 each. You would at first think the turkey is the more cost effective product. However, you can save $23 a week just by using the peanut butter versus making a turkey sandwich.

Plus, peanut butter and jelly keep longer than turkey- (not to mention longer than tomatoes, lettuce etc.) so you can effectively “spread your investment” over 3 to 4 times more sandwiches.

We’ll never win the war on our own hunger. So your best bet is to eat foods that keep you full longer; foods high in protein and fiber, like peanut butter. The peanut butter “sticks to your ribs” and manages to leave you content after your meal.

I’d like to point out the nutritional side of these sandwiches.  Some may argue the sugar in jelly is what ruins the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. However, our company makes a sugar free jelly, which is amazing. It tastes just like full sugar jelly with 1/3^rd less calories!

 So go ahead, grab our peanut butter and jelly sandwich- mix and match your ingredients, feel fuller longer, save time & money. Leave that deli section and next time you’re going to build a turkey sandwich, remember who is really king of the kitchen-

Peanut Butter and Jelly J It’s so good someone even wrote a song about it! **Play song**

Then I played this. No shit. I really did. I'm so hired:

What would you do?

Who do I speak with to get my unemployment payments raised? Is there some kind of 6-month review we can do for a pay bump? Just wondering, because I’ve been doing MORE than my part for this city. This weekend, for example, I saved a life.

I didn’t do it alone, my friend Karl was here with me. But seriously, we saved a woman’s life. We came home to my apartment and I went to open the sliding glass door to the balcony (that description makes my apartment sound nice and me sound rich- mama likey) to find a topless woman standing on the roof of the building next to mine. When I say topless, I don’t mean no shirt (no shoes, no service)- I mean NAKED. No bra, no shirt, no bando top, no booby tassels, NOTHING! She also wasn’t wearing shoes, but I didn’t notice that until a good five minutes after we saw her…you could imagine why.

Karl called out to the woman asking if she was ok, if she needed help, if she could hear us- nothing. No response. She didn’t even lift up her head; which, by the way, was hanging down over the edge like she was going to throw up. I told Karl that as an upstanding citizen, and as my social duty, I had to call the police. I dialed 9-1-1 because I figured this is as much of an emergency as you’re going to get- am I right, or right?! I explained to the dispatcher that there was a naked woman on the roof of the building next to mine, and I’m not sure if it would constitute “emergency” but we definitely need some figure of authority to go get her. To be honest, I called mostly because I pay TOO MUCH in rent to be staring at some homeless version of a dirty HBO movie.

After an intense line of questioning from the SDPD (description of the woman: topless, age: according to her saggy bags I’d say 45, weight: let’s just say if she leans over too far the laws of gravity will take over etc etc) they said they were dispatching police and EMTs. The cops arrived and BUSTED through the door to the rooftop of that building to grab her and cuff her. It was like a scene right out of an action movie. While the two cops were cuffing her and doing a medical check on her, another one walked over towards the edge and asked if anyone had an extra t-shirt they wouldn’t mind donating. Before we could say anything the woman upstairs had one and threw it across to the cop. Before she threw it, he told her to put something heavy in it (um...like an attempted suicide from a mentally ill homeless person?!) and I said “Tie it in a knot” and just as I said it out loud the dink upstairs goes “Oh I’ll tie it in a knot” ß Shud up. That was my idea. Don’t take the credit, just throw the GD shirt and go back to your bottle of White Zin.

Then this dialogue takes place:

Hot Cop: How long has she been up here?

Me: Well, she’s been up there since we’ve been home, so about 30 minutes.”

Upstairs Neighbor: “Yea, she hasn’t been up there very long. We saw her get up there”

**Insert me turning to Karl and meeting her with matching wide eyes**

Me (to Karl): WTF?! They saw her up there when she first arrived and they weren’t going to do ANYTHING about it?!

Karl: Those idiots need to be in the episode of “What Would You Do” with John Stossle just so we can prove that WE would be the ones to take action and THEY would just sit and watch.

Me: Would it be inappropriate to play Third Eye Blind’s song “I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend…”

Karl: No- then when the cops come up we could play a mash-up of Enrique Iglesias’ “I could be your Hero baby” and Mariah Carey’s “Hero” ß You all know it: And then a hero comes along…with the strength to carry on…

Oh man, if John Stossle could see us now. Sorry this story is so long, but now you can see why I deserve a raise from the state. I’m basically an EMT (CPR Certified) a cop and an upstanding citizen all rolled into one! Pay me b*tches.

Crime Scene:

Crime Ledge:

Crime dog Undercover:

                                                            Taking a BITE outta crime!

Still got it...

I had to complete a homework assignment for the job at which I interviewed last week. The instructions were to sign on to their website and make up your own event. I was thinking I would make something like this:

Event Title: 5k for the ASPCA or Run for Rover (it’s for the dogs of course!)

Event Participants: People and Canine competitors- No cats unless they're sedated or stuffed...or leashed

Event Info: Join us for a pre-race chocolate fountain, a downhill course and a post-race ‘build your own burger’ station as well as unlimited free Michelob Ultra- “for those who live the Ultra life.”

Post- Race: Come back that night and join us for live band karaoke, an appearance from Duke the Busch’s baked beans dog and fireworks.

I would hire me. I’d also run this race if it were real. Send me $10 if you would run it too! No for real….send me $10. I’m starting a fundraiser for the LGBT…well more for my two best gays’ wedding shower, but still. That counts.

I thought of this event (the running one, not the gay wedding shower one) while I was out walking my dog, and a man- probably with no home, definitely not showered, and assumedly unemployed- walked by me. He goes “Who is walking whom here?” HA! First off….he speaks better English than half of the world. Secondly, I’M walking HER, dumbass. She’s a 17lb dog…she can’t walk in a straight line and she’d rather chase birds into on-coming traffic and threaten people on motorcycles with her duclaw than walk. Although he did wink at me, so….bam! I still got it ;)

And PS- yes, I do walk my dog in a tight, tight red tube top and biker shorts. What about it? I look ghed.

Wine Wednesday

Sobriety: the quality or state of being sober

I don’t think being sober is a quality, actually. It’s more of a downer- and not the good kind. More in a literal way since alcohol is a downer (according to SOME know it alls). What I’m saying is, with all my free time I am beginning to wonder how people stay sober during the day. Don’t get me wrong here- I’m not an alcoholic by any means. People tend to throw that word around… “Alcoholic”…they use it too loosely, like “maternal” and “emotional”.

When my day is finished at 2pm (or 10am), it’s hard to not start happy hour right then. I guess I would just end up in bed by about 7pm and most likely sleep until 10am, thus getting over a solid 12 hours of sleep. I’ve heard that is not as healthy as one might think, so maybe drinking in the afternoon each day ain’t a good idea. Not to mention the wear and tear on the ole liver. But honestly, what is left to do when the dog has been walked 40 miles, one has worked out for two hours, all emails have been answered and that bottle of white is chilled to Wednesday afternoon perfection?! Also, don’t you have two livers? I can spare one.

I guess this is what people are talking about when they say if they weren’t working they would be bored. But I’m not bored. Does drinking wine at 2pm on a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday- any day ending in D.A.Y. - sound like someone who is bored to you? That just sounds like good time management to me. Sort of like someone who is efficient enough with the day that they are able to kick back and relax earlier than the rest of the world. A person who, at the very least, should most likely be consulted by any Fortune 500 company on how to get employees to function with such speed and effectiveness.

Is it really my fault if I get all my work done in two hours while it takes others all day? It seems to me like the system works backwards. I should not have been laid off for my ability to quickly and effectively complete simple tasks (then enjoy wine). I should have been promoted. I’ve got ‘upper management’ written all over me! Except for most recent Thursday when I decided to do an “out of work bar crawl” with my friend Bertha, we were totally over inebriated by 4pm, eating mystery lasagna and getting Angry Birds tattoos. In our defense, it was a REALLY nice day outside, it was the start of Comicon, and the tattoos were fake, so…

“The thing is, Bob, it’s not that I’m lazy, it’s that I just don’t care.” – Office Space

Yoga pants and heart attacks

When my sibs and I were growing up my dad used to tell us to  “always look your best” because apparently you never know whom you may run into. My friend, Jimmy, took this advice very seriously and has really implemented it into her life today. She’s always ready to go out to a fancy dinner, her hair is always quaffed for a surprise photo shoot and her outfit can change from work appropriate to inappropriate with a few snaps and belts. I, on the other hand, have made sure to always look like I just worked out and on my good days, to look like a slightly more feminine version of Hulk Hogan. THAT’S RIGHT BROTTTTHHHER!

But really….ugh. Showering is hard. It hurts my feelings. It’s a process and not one that is actually required to live your life…or so I’ve found out. Want to know what else isn’t required when you aren’t working? Doing your hair, putting on make-up or getting out of sweatpants. Ha. Serious! No one cares! No one knows! It’s like a secret unemployed uniform. I do shower (sometimes) and I do change my sweatpants (into my running shorts) so it’s not like I’ve completely let myself go here…I like fooling the working folk into thinking I’ve just come, or am going, to the gym. Like I have the best job in the world and can go workout whenever it pleases me. This is how I did things when I was actually employed and I gotta tell ya…it’s going over A LOT better for me now days!

I will admit however, I get a little self-conscious when I go out to walk the dog in the morning. I’m thinking that people are judging me (because I'm so much more interesting than them and their life) and wondering how I am out walking my dog (in sweatpants) at 10am. Shouldn’t I be at work? ß That’s the people thinking that. So I always have excuses running through my mind just in case that one stranger on the sidewalk decides to ask why I’m out at 10am in workout clothes. But these start going through my head at warp speed so when people are like “good morning” I immediately respond with “I’m a nurse, I work the night shift, I just got home and am walking my dog and then going to bed. I work nights, I’m a nurse. It’s a night….it’s a job that’s at night. It goes on at nights. So….” I scurry away and the next person passes “Hi” and I go “I’M A PERSONAL TRAINER, I HAVE CLIENTS AT 5AM AND THENIGOHOMEANDGOBACKTOBEDANDILOVESWEATPANTSANDSHOWERINGISHARD.

So by the time I get back from that walk I’ve had at least four different professions and 900 conversations (all in my head of course) with strangers about why I’m out and about at 10am pretending it’s a Sunday. And now that I’ve told you my secret I need to spend the next 20 minutes making up new jobs and reasons to be out on a Tuesday, as well as ironing my yoga pants. Keepin’ it classy J

Arts & Craps

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while kids. Nothing exciting has happened to me. I haven’t received an update from the interview I had last week. She said I should hear something by today, so fingers crossed for that. Also, fingers crossed that my already-assembled Halloween costume arrives today, or else I’m wrapping myself in aluminum foil and going as leftovers.

It wouldn’t really bother me to go as leftovers actually. I’ve never been creative at all and frankly, arts and crafts of any kind make me cry. I don’t cry easily, but if someone asks me to draw, paint or imagine something I start to sweat and hyperventilate. Needless to say, I failed geometry and dropped out of the Interior Design program on day two after I was asked to build a retaining wall.

My Dad on the other hand is a creative genius. When I was younger my parents made all of my brothers’ Halloween costumes and mine. One year, my dad made a popcorn costume out of a cardboard box, paint and cotton balls on top for the popcorn. It was awesome! I was the hit of the 4^th grade Halloween party, except for that I needed him to take off work to help me put it on because it had to be lowered over my head and then when I was in it I lost total use of my arms because the box cut off just below the armpits- making me about as useful as a turtle.  That year my friend went as a bag of M&M’s and we ran all over her neighborhood trick or treating. While we were running door to door I tripped and fell, please refer back to previous turtle comment, as I was unable to get up by myself because my shorty t-Rex arms wouldn’t reach the ground in that box. My M&M’s had to run back to her house and get her dad to come pick me up and set me back on my feet. Maybe that’s where my fear of arts and crafts started.

Cut to 7^th grade art class when we started pottery. I thought this was going to be my thing. How can you mess up art when it’s all in the eye of the beholder (or whatever shit they say about stupid art class). I started making an awesome pot out of snake coils- you know, roll out a piece of clay really long and skinny like a snake and then stack it on top of another just like it and make a pot that holds, well….f*cking nothing. The teacher came over and asked me what I was making. I was kind of taken aback because it was pretty f*cking obvious. “It’s a pot” I replied. Immediately she took her palm and smashed it all back down to nothing! Smashed my clay pot…along with my childhood dreams. I ended up making a Jabba The Hut looking monster instead and hating art forever.

Next up- last year: a very good friend of mine from work, Bertha* (the name she wishes she had) asked me to accompany her on our lunch break to a store called ‘Color me Mine.’ I had no idea what this store was, but she said it would be fun and she was going to make her best friends some Valentine’s Day gifts. So whatever, I went with her. It was better than eating a turkey sangwedge alone at my desk playing spider solitaire or bejeweled for an hour (and let's be honest, I played those games all day...my lunch break was basically a time-out from those games). We walked into this store and it was all plain ceramic items that you choose and then paint! I almost fainted right there. I picked out a blank picture frame to make for my Valentine- we had plans to go to Vegas so I was going to write “Happy Valentine’s Day- Vegas 2010” around the frame. I pictured it in my mind (you know, all the greats use visualization before they take on a task) and decided it was going to be red (for love) and have all the writing in black (because that’s the max amount of creative I have). I started the painting and wasn’t having such a hard time with it, and then I got to the black lettering. I started first with Happy Valen- and realized my message was too big and long to fit across the top of the frame. So I repainted it red and started over with ValEnTineDAy.

I realized my letters were so uneven (not to mention misspelled) it looked like a mentally handicapped monkey had colored them on there. So I REPAINTED it again red, and started over…at this point I started to get tears in my eyes and thought about just quietly pushing the frame off the side of the table so it would shatter on the floor. In the time it took me to collect myself, Bertha had made like 89 pots, frames, hearts and other nick-knacks that were all awesome. Said frame became a big joke between me and my Valentine where we would hide it in each other’s belongings to try to get the other to keep it without knowing it. He won when he put it in my pillowcase and I didn’t find it until I went to bed that night. Oh and just to update you- when we broke up I chucked that piece of trash down the garbage disposal and listened to it completely shatter at the bottom! I also threw away the frame. OH ZING!

So there you have it- I will NOT be making my Halloween costume, nor will I be getting a job in the arts. 

Jabba Da Hut -->

Interf*ckingNAILEDIT!...view.

 I did the interview and it went SWIMMINGLY! I quite literally nailed it…well, not literally. More figuratively, but you get it.  The lady was very nice and didn’t ask me stupid questions. I really thought about my answers and made sure to articulate exactly what I was trying to say so she didn’t think I had gone to Clown College. She did ask if there was an example in my life when a client was upset with me and if I could explain to her how I had handled the situation. I told her that my financial advisers had gotten very upset with me once, but my parents can hardly stay mad at me very long. And I handled it the same way I do any other emotions; avoidance and ignoring the issue entirely; easy enough. I think she was satisfied with that. Interview round two here I come!

Now I guess I’ll just get back to my day…workout, walk the dog, d*ck around on facebook and then carve pumpkins! I’m excited for that, seeing as how I am a Wiccan and it is the Devil’s holiday or whatever. Two years ago when we did this activity I made a Lil Wayne pumpkin…I used the pumpkin guts as his dreads. I should have sent him a picture of that to see if he’d come visit me just based on my artistic pumpkin rendering of him. Probably would have. Pic below. 

Since it is Wednesday and we interviewed today, everyone deserves a drink (I'll have 4, thanks). I recently tried Rockin’ Baja (downtown San Diego) and they have amazing food. The happy hour is ½ off apps and ½ priced well drinks! You could also hit up Johnny V’s or The Ale House in PB for ½ price bottles of wine- yummy yummy. Happy hippity hump day J

Lil Weezy Young Mooolah Baaabby:

**He saying "Bllaaahhh, and then I was stopped by a lady cop...thinking maybe I could date a cop...bllaahhh"

Enterveeyw Twodaiye!

I have a job interview today! Yay! I know this one will talk to me longer than four minutes so I’m already off to a great start. Hopefully there aren’t any stupid and/or trick questions like my biggest pet peeve, or my weaknesses. Speaking of, I found this little blurb from another blog and it made me laugh real hard. Thought you all might enjoy it…this man might be my soul mate.

http://theoatmeal.com/comics/interview_questions

Enjoy! I’ll update you after the interview J

Karma Shmarma

When Jimmy and I were in high school we entered a contest to come up with a new idea for lunch. Apparently the ole meatloaf and Tuesday surprise were getting old to the kids at our school. Or maybe because it smelled like stale puberty and wet lamb’s wool in there that they had to come up with a way to get the kids to actually enter the lunchroom. Jimmy and I thought hard about what we would really want to eat for lunch and put in the suggestion box. Guess what fans? WE WON! We had suggested ‘Breakfast for Lunch’ and it had been the best (possibly the only) idea the lunch ladies had received. We were so excited we told everyone we knew- our town was pretty boring if you hadn’t figured it out by our lunchtime contest- so we got a lot of recognition.

As our reward we got a behind the scenes tour of our school’s cafeteria as well as a sit down Q & A session with the head lunch lady. Tap, tap, is this thing on? THE HEAD LUNCH LADY! She runs the show! HA! I still can’t believe it to this day. On our way out of the kitchen we were given a dozen of the school’s best selling item- barely baked, Otis SpunkMyer, chocolate chip cookies. These cookies were HUGE and amazingly doughy. I’m fairly certain the ingredients were raw eggs, Crisco and chocolate chips then they just flatted them out to look like baked cookies. It’s most likely where Jimmy contracted salmonella our junior year, but we can never be sure because she spent a good amount of time around chickens.

This seemed like the best day of our little high school lives. After that tour Jimmy and I basically felt like we owned the lunchroom. We were tiny CEO’s of the dining hall at SHS. Suck it peons. Our first move as CEO’s was to deem one lunch lady Beaker, as she looked exactly like Beaker from the Muppet's. You all remember Beaker, right? *Picture below to jog your memories. We would purposely go through her line with our french fry, potato soup and soft pretzel lunches and when we were asked for our student id numbers we would respond with “meep meep meep meep 5 Meep 432. Meep” and then walk away, sometimes not even paying her the correct amount, other times leaving her the change. It. Was. Hilarious.

Also- when lunch was finished and all the kids were on the way out we’d drop our entire trays, trash and all, into the garbage can. There were signs all over the cafeteria explicitly saying to NOT throw away your plastic tray as they are washed and reused. Good thing Jimmy and I didn’t follow the rules or we wouldn’t have had minutes of laughter walking out of the lunchroom each day. Minutes.

These may sounds like mean things we did, but for Jimmy and I, it was a way to get through the boring school day. I guess when I stop and think about it I’m clearly getting hit hard in the face by karma. Those ladies are most likely still working their stations in the lunchroom, wearing their ankle weights so they get some exercise in during the day and collecting a paycheck that they take home to their bus-driver husbands, while I sit here unemployed playing a game with my dog that I just made up called “Basket Dog.” (Please see picture below.)

Karma is a b*tch. 

Exhibit A: Lunch lady Beaker

Exhibit B: Basket Dog

Exhibit C: Get a GD job

Gettin' it together

 Funemployment:

A happy time in one’s life when one is not employed and one is not wanting to be employed.

During this time of retirement I’m going to become a renaissance woman. I just got a burst of inspiration yesterday- not real inspiration; in fact it was more of like a stomach pain. But anyway, I decided that I want to use this time to get really good at a lot of things. I want to take some Spanish classes, piano lessons, workout daily, do a triathlon, become a personal trainer, train my dog to not kill things (she loves the crunch of bones in her mouth), maybe learn to crochet, make my own ketchup- I don’t know. The point is that I want to utilize this time to become awesome at everything.

I know for those of you that know who I am, you’re thinking- “but Miss Funs, you’re already awesome at everything.” Well thanks kids, but it’s not entirely true. Me Espanola is no muy beano, I can tap out Fur Elise here and there and my dog definitely still kills things. So there you have it.

This unemployment ain’t getting me down!! I’ve also made my own Facebook page, so like me and be my friend so you can see more updates J

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Miss-Funemployment/202549566483472

Xo

Miss Funemployment

WTF Wednesday (An update)

I think all the idiots were let loose on this here Wednesday. Seriously. I started my day with a doggy walk and running a few errands around my apartment. It’s SO nice here (86 in October- suck it cold weather!) so I decided to take my studying/plan for the day and move it outside.

I headed to up our city’s most beautiful park where I almost killed two people on the drive because they thought it was appropriate to cross the street when the big orange hand said DON’T YOU F*CKING DARE! I was so prepared and house-wifey like for my outside study sesh; I had a blanket, a towel (for the reading sweats) water (for me and pooch), and treats for her, my books, computer, appropriate writing utensils and my iPod for a musical snack. It’s the most prepared for anything I’ve ever been in my life, to be honest; except that time I climbed Mount Everest. ß whhhaatt? No, I didn’t do that.

I get to the park, lay my items out neatly and extend the dog’s leash to the end so she has room to roam around our area. For anyone who knows my dog, she’s a crazy lunatic- for real. She’s 17lbs but she will kill anyone or anything that comes close to us, so it’s always nice to have her in a park full of people, children, birds, other dogs and the like. Just as I’m getting my brain all geared up and into the text my canine companion goes ape shid over a squirrel that, in his defense, is minding his own dayum business! It takes me about 15 minutes to get her to sit down and stare at the squirrel with some occasional whining. Idiot number three is my dogder- does that make me a bad pet owner?!

 I continue to read for the majority of the afternoon when a group of six, shirtless dudes in tiny, tiny running shorts go jogging by on the path in front of me. I didn’t really pay attention because I was busy, but two minutes later they’re sprinting right by my blanket. I’m not saying this in a fun “Oh look at those hot, shirtless, runner dudes who want to run past my blanket”- NO. I’m saying it in a “WTF do you have to run so close to my blanket for? You just dropped sweat on me sicko! Really? This has to happen RIGHT here when you have an ENTIRE park?!” I was irate. So I packed up all my things, collected my dog- let her bark and chase them on their last go ‘round- and got in my car to go to Target.

Cut to me unloading my items from Target and getting in the elevator (with dog in tow) to come up to my floor. We stop on the wrong floor and out of nowhere a puppy bulldog gets into the elevator. At this point in the story, please refer to paragraph 3 and choose your own ending…just jokes. She didn’t attack the puppy, but she was barking and got in his puppy face as if she was going to snap his neck like a little black, four-legged ninja. This man appears and grabs his dog out of the elevator, doors close. We’re safe. I guess I should say that puppy is safe from the 5^th Floor Devil Dog. People need to stop being idiots and keep their dogs on a leash. I understand if your dog is friendly and trained and perfect, but mine isn’t. For your own safety and your dog’s safety lock it up and keep track of it, otherwise I’m going to let my killer baby eat your face.

Unemployed Wednesday. Ugh.

                                                                    My baby dog

                                                                   Idiot Dude Runners

                                                    Boo! Wednesday's Worst Face

                                                    (Buzz, your girlfriend...woof!)

F.A.B.

F.A.C was a big thing in my life for quite a while. For those of you who didn’t go to an awesome college, F.A.C. stands for Friday After Class. It was the best day of the week made better by super low priced drinks and awesomely cheap food. Every Friday we would prance from class (if we went) to the bar (if we’d left the night before). It was basically like a college style happy hour before happy hour was a big part of our lives. One of my besests friends, “Lewis” loved FAC, so the two of us would grace the dirtiest bars in Madison with our presence for the occasion; aka Friday.

One summer, Lewis got a job as a bank teller. No joke. And no, he’s not Asian, but he was a best friend to a little Asian teller named Dolores. She would always yell at him when he started to cry because his tiny brain would get jammed up taking in all that money. “Why you cry? Why you crying?” she would ask…and he would just sob harder. Being a bank teller is apparently very tough. Good thing I never gave it a shot, since we all know I can barely count. People would have deposited their money into my pocket and I would have put purple confetti paper in their accounts instead….so….yea….

 Lewis’s first week at said bank we decided to grace FAC- aptly renamed FAB (Friday After Bank) with our presence as we normally did. On our way home Lewis just kept saying over and over how he couldn’t be late to work or Dolores would be so berry, berry mad. I made sure to set at least four alarms that night (two of them in my mind) and double check them, which is hard to do after you’ve knocked back a few brewskies. ß I am such a dude.

At around 8:30am I wake up to find Lewis still sleeping. It took me quick second to comprehend that he was supposed to have been at work 30 minutes ago and that he was going to be actually was berry late. What happened next is still disputed to this day…I LITERALLY woke up two seconds before Lewis did, and was looking at him when he opened his eyes. I calmly said “Lewis, don’t freak out. But you’re late for work” and of course he FREAKED out and busted ass out of my apartment for home. Later that day he called to ask me if I had been awake for hours just watching him sleep and making sure he missed all the alarms we had set (duh, of course that’s what I did). Apparently, I was so calm about the situation that it seemed like I had been awake since 4am watching him sleep like a creepy peeping Tom.

After that F.A.B incident we decided that we could no longer have Lewis work on Saturday mornings. What? Did you think I was going to say we deduced we couldn’t go out on Friday nights? Get real. Lewis told Dolores that he was unable to work Saturday mornings due to soccer practice! What a joke. I can’t believe she bought it, but she was apparently berry happy he was involved in athletics. Lewis was out of working Saturdays and FAB/FAC was back on track J

Moral of the story-  If I don’t care about my own employment, do you think I really give a sh*t about yours? xo

BIRSDAY DAY!

Today- October 6^th- is my birthday. Stop your applause- I’m not happy. I am not making jokes today because I made a joke a few days ago about Steve Jobs and possibly sending me a new Macbook…now he’s deceased (RIP Mr. Jobs, and thank you for the iPhone). I don’t even know my own power and I’m pretty positive I will just cause more harm with my “jokes” if I continue.

Another downer is that this is the year I’m supposed to be involved in a boating accident. This news was delivered to me via a little Thai fortuneteller, and so far he’s been right about everything else…so starting today- I’m scared and won’t be near any marinas any time soon. I personally think it’s going to be some crazy ‘Final Destination’ sh*t where I’m in the middle of a cornfield and a truck pulling a boat drives by me. Said boat comes detached from its hitch (<- yea I grew up on a farm, what of it?!) and crashes into my car, ipso facto I’m decapitated. There you have it….no joke. Remember? No joking today.

OR…everything was lost in translation and I’m supposed to buy a boat. The man didn’t speak English very well so it’s hard to know exactly what he meant. I do know there was, and is, a boat involved and it was in my 27^th year of life. That’s this one. But could he know that I would be unemployed at this point in my life? And if so, why didn’t that little Thai b*tch tell me, give me a heads up, even? How can I buy a boat without a j.o.b? Maybe put it on a credit card? Maybe it’ll be a birthday gift?

I’m old, unemployed and can’t tell jokes for fear of becoming the grim reaper. Whadda day.

<-------AAGGHHH!

PS- I'm having a great day, am not in a bad mood and would like to thank everyone for the birthday wishes! <3 you all!