Hard-Knock Life

Well, I'm not having a great day. The unfortunate thing about my agreement with myself that I write weekly is that sometimes - as Sarah Michelle Gellar-as-Christina Aguilera once said - I ain't feelin' it. But I fear that if I stop writing once a week, my readers will all leave me (both on the internet and in life, obviously). So while I'm not in my funnest of moods, it's been a week, the clock is up, and I'm due another post. So apologies in advance for the (relative) downer this week. And if this is your first time reading my blog, uh skip this week and read older ones first. I mean it. Cause I'm usually way more funny - and even occasionally charming.

So while it was kitschy fun at first, this unemployment thing is really wearing thin. And while I love things that are thin*, I'm starting to devolve into an insane cat lady. Remember the cats I wrote about last week? The ones I was getting used to? They are now my minions. Oh yes, Buster and Lucille are now my best and only friends, considering their mom (a.k.a. my roommate) actually has a job and is gone most of the time. At first it was they, the cats, who were excited to be friends with me. Buster would climb into my lap and nuzzle up, falling asleep on me. Lucille would leap onto my bed while I was laying down and start sucking on my ear.**

*Especially when the thin thing is me - former fat child, remember.
**What a little pervert.

Thinking they were obsessed with me - cause who wouldn't be - I began to become attached to them because one of my favorite qualities in others is loving me. "These cats just love me", I told myself, knowing that since somebody thought I was cool I was therefore cool, because that's how coolness works, right? RIGHT? So getting comfortable with them, I began to enjoy picking up Buster and squeezing him while saying, "little fatty! You little fat man!" Or scooping up Lucille and puppeteering her little arms around and making her dance. I laughed as I jabbed them (lightly!) in the stomach with the remote control and watched as they flailed confusedly.

Long story short the cats aren't so into me anymore. I know, I'm shocked too.* Apparently they don't love being physically assaulted with regularity. This would not be as disconcerting as it is if I had a job or, say, anyone else to love me talk to. I had two job interviews last week, both for ACT/SAT tutoring positions. See, despite my lack of maturity, I do very well on standardized tests. One interview was over the phone, and one over Skype. The Skype interview asked for business attire. The fun thing about doing an interview over Skype is that you can do your whole interview with no pants on! Dress shirt, suit jacket, no pants, ahthankyou. 

*WHY DOES EVERYONE ALWAYS LEAVE ME? Oh wait, I'm not Dawn.

A friend wondered how that worked, so I almost texted her a picture of me in the dress top-half, no-pants bottom-half, but then it suddenly felt too close to sexting and I got very uncomfortable. The point is, going pantsless in a situation like that is really fun, not because you're not wearing pants, but rather because the other party doesn't know you're not wearing pants. It's these little moments of secretly pulling one over on someone else that make life special, don't you agree? Anyway, if you can have a conversation with someone wherein you can be pantsless and they won't know a thing about it, I highly recommend it. It is so choice.

Unfortunately, I was rejected from the first job, and woke up this morning to an e-mail telling me I was rejected from the second. A lovely gut-punch to start the morning. I had hoped (against my better judgment) that maybe this would work out and I could breathe easy for a little bit. Oh well. I pulled out my laptop and started pulling up more Craig's List job postings, pouring through them - office listings, marketing jobs, temp work - until I felt completely full of dread, sick to my stomach, and had to stop. I just suddenly felt a part of an endless monotonous drift towards a life with no excitement. I had a vision of the future, That's So Raven-style, only instead of seeing myself falling into a cake or dressed up as old lady like Raven usually does, I saw myself not working or worse, working at a job that I cared noting about and fulfilled me in no way, coming home every night and watching TV, nothing gratifying, nothing to look forward to, and nothing to feel good about until the day I die.

Um.

Um.

Um.

...comedy? COMEDY?

So we come back to the beginning of this post. Sorry to be a bummer, but I still just haven't quite shaken this blue feeling. I could really use a Pumpkin pie. Like, an entire pie - I've eaten an entire pumpkin pie in a day before, and I'm not afraid to do it again, okay? Don't push me. But, y'know, I guess not every day can be bells and whistles and laugher and comedy. I'll be fine later, I'm sure. It's not like I'm looking for a career right now; I'd just like to pay my rent. And besides, all this REALLY DEEP PAIN and pathos are really giving me material. Oh yeah, these are really the hard knocks.

You guys, I think when something actually bad happens I'm probably not going to hold up that well. Just a hunch.

Cats and Clothes

I finally moved out of the suburbs, which, while hopefully a good thing, requires actually moving out of the suburbs. Moving is like the movie John Carter, in that they're both the worst thing ever. As such, I packed almost nothing - nothing decorative, no posters, no keepsakes, nothing sentimental, which is unlike me - it was essentially just a mattress, lots of clothes, and a box of DVD's. The move went very smoothly, but afterwards my entire bedroom was filled with boxes. This was annoying for several reasons:

1) I had to unpack everything.
2) I needed to unpack everything.
3) I don't know the spell from Fantasia that makes inanimate objects sort themselves.
4) I don't know the spell from Harry Potter that makes your room clean itself.
5) I didn't want to unpack everything.

As it turns out, for someone who doesn't care about clothes at all, I have a lot of clothes. I deliberately dress in a way that doesn't say anything about me, all non-descript and muted; my goal with the way I dress is not be noticed by anyone ever. But somewhere along the line I apparently accumulated a lot of muted clothes. I started emptying out all the bags, tossing clothes into sorted piles as best as I could. "Shorts, pants, ugly shirts, ok shirts, those shirts that you really like..." I started by hanging things first. Looking at all my winter things hanging in the closet, I was a little depressed by the color scheme; black, grey, forest green, navy blue, maroon. I dress like I'm the human version of the Zoloft blob.* I started throwing shirts onto the bed, hitting one of the cats, who scurried out from under them.**

*If, y'know, the Zoloft blob became human for a day after making a magical wish to a genie or on a star, or a deal with the devil or Ursula, or found a Zoltar machine. I'm still working on the pitch, okay?  But Zoloft and I think it's going to be both a box office hit and a great victory for product placement.

**One of the first things I noticed about these cats is that they love to jump up onto my bed with me. For a split second, I thought, "Oh no, what if someone is in bed with me and they're allergic to cats?", but then I laughed out loud, remembering, "nobody's going to be in bed with me!" and then cackled wildly before descending into silence.

Oh, did I mention I have cats now? My roommate has two cats, Buster and Lucille, so I guess now I have two cats, though I think of myself as a step-parent if anything. As a dog person, this has been odd. I don't really have a problem with cats, but cats hate me. I don't know if I smell like dog or what, but they greatly dislike me. I once went to my friend Andrew's house, and upon entering saw his cat, smiled real big and said "hiiiii!" in a high singsongy voice. The cat responded by hissing loudly and viciously. Andrew stood dumbfounded. "In eight years he's never done that to anyone", he said. Well, that was before he got a little of the old Alex charm! Am I right, people?

I am still unemployed, but I attended a job fair last weekend and hopefully some of that Alex charm worked on some potential employers.

Alex, smiling brightly: Hi, my name is Alex, I just graduated-
Employer: *HISS*
Alex: Oh, um - yes well, anyway, I majored in Communications-
Employer licks his hand while staring bitchily at Alex.
Alex: So, I have a copy of my resume...
Alex begins to hand paper, but employer scratches his hand, drawing blood.
Alex: Ow! Ow, ow, okay, I'll leave now, Jesus Christ...

Hopefully more of them were dogs than cats. But these cats have been pretty cool with me, perhaps because they've figured out I'm living here and therefore should not be messed with. See, I have no problem bopping them on the head (in the style of Little Bunny Foo Foo) if they give me trouble. I sat petting Buster on the couch for maybe ten whole minutes when he suddenly bit me. Without a second's hesitation I grabbed the spray water bottle and immediately sprayed him in the face. He stared at me, shocked. "I'm not having that for a second, got it?"

I apparently think I can teach cats to be nice more often than I realize. Last weekend, I was petting my friend Michelle's cat for a while, getting along fine, when she bit me. I grabbed a small pillow and bopped her on the head (sorry, Michelle). She hissed at me, and I bopped her again.* "Why?!" my friend Cary asked. "Because I was letting her know if she thought I was scared of her, she had another thing coming. You wanna hiss at me? Guess what, I'm not scared of you for a second!" "She's a cat! She doesn't understand that!" "All I'm saying is, if she wants to challenge me she should know that she's gonna lose. It's not smart to start a fight with a bigger animal! She should know that!"

*It's worth noting that unlike my new cat roommates, this cat is a total bitch. Like, my cats are mostly nice, okay - this cat has always been a total asshole.

Maybe how that's I should've dealt with that employer. Next time, I'll go in with a plan.

Alex, smiling brightly: Hi, my name is Alex, I just graduated-
Employer: *HISS*
Alex pulls spray bottle and sprays several times.
Employer HISSES loudly.
Alex: BAD! Okay, bad! Now here's my resume...
Alex begins to hand paper, but employer bites Alex's hand.
Alex: NO! Take the resume-
Alex pulls out a pillow and WOMPS employer on the head.
Employer scurries away.
Alex: YEAH, I HOPE YOU LEARNED YOUR LESSON! I WON'T HAVE THAT BEHAVIOR FOR A SECOND! 

I may not get a job, but at least they learned they can't mess with me.

What's that? I still have to pay rent? Oh.