Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I would like to welcome Dave Burkart to my Blog

Well, shit! Jean and I thought we were being so cautious, but perhaps Dave's brother is a search engine genius because as it turns out...he's found my blog. I can only imagine the look of sheer terror and embarassment on my face as Dave came up to me saying, "Hey! I found your website!" I look at Jean and her face is saying what i'm thinking: "Shit, fuck, oh god, this can't be good, lets get out of here." But Dave graciaously talked about how funny it was that we call their "psycho #2" Slutzilla. I'm glad he brought that up rather than continue discussing how i once (mistakenly) called him "chubby" in a cowboy hat (which he's not) or how I pretty much love it any time he plays Yesterday because its one of my favorite songs and Istarted requesting it MONTHS ago.

So, since Dave was such a good sport about the ridiculous things i've said in this blog, and because of regret and embarassmane that I'm currently feeling, I think I owe some explanations. Jean I'm borrowing your list format since i think that is best suited for the number of ridiculous things we've said/done over the last 11 months of hearing the TSB.

- firstly, as Jean also mentions, we aren't psycho...I promise. We happily stumbled upon Thursday nights at the cafe. And Rachel, Matt and I, pleasantly stumbled upon Dave at Keegan's because of our Monday Irish Pub Night.

-I freely admit that we've sort of become groupies. We love coming to hear the great music and stories (I can't count the number of times I've practically spit on the two steppers during "story time with Tony"), and we love the people watching at the MMC.

-speaking of people watching...glad you like the Slutzilla title...Barbie's Grandma is another favorite, as is Shoeless. If you're looking for a name for us...Jean and I figured it might be "chubby girls on the rail" but we're not sure we really wanna know what you might call us.

-Tony, we love the creative lyrics you use: stick in the back door, if you love me...you'll let me do all sorts of stuff to you, you smell nice...feel tight. Yes, we notice and we love them.

-Dave you don't look chubby in cowboy hats...and i'm the last person who should talk.
-Tony, i know i make fun of the white leather jacket, but it works on you.
-Smokey, thanks for talking to us after doing "band stuff"...you saved us (unknowingly) from creepy guys at Bogarts
-Ryan, we like the faces you make.

-So, thanks for being understanding. If you've dug through the archives, you've read things that I'm not proud of, but I hope they've at least made you laugh. We're really excited about the new record deal and can't wait to hear more. We'll continue to be there every Thursday night possible cuz we love your music, love the MMC and the crazy people who are there, and love our Bud Lights...

Til next Thursday,
~one of your gilrs on the rail

Friday, August 12, 2005

To Pee or Not to Pee

Well I was going to write about my 2nd interview with “Krissy” who kept asking me if I was “goal orientated”, had the limpest handshake I’ve ever received and couldn’t come up with the difficult words “department” or “company” (though since those words are completely unrelated to retail, I should excuse that). I was going to right about that…but now that I’ve officially been offered the job in the Home department it seems more appropriate to write about the first test Marshall Fields handed me: pee in a cup. (lets count how many times I use that phrase)

First of all can I say that even the phrase “pee in a cup” is gross. But secondly, I hate peeing in cups…whether it be for the doctor, a drug test, or that one time that guy asked me to do it…peeing in a cup is nasty. And might I mention that its another thing that women got the short stick on? Its so easy for guys to pee in the cup, but it’s a little awkward for us…back me up ladies. You're just about guarteneed to pee on your hand.


So I get to the testing place and ask for a glass of water, knowing full well that my bladder is not going to cooperate. The lady tells me "No. You have to try first." Fine. Well, of course i wasn't able to fill the little cup up to the line. "Well, you'll just have to drink some water and try again." Duh!!! That's why i asked for water in the first place. Skip ahead 30 minutes later after i drank about a gallon of water. Once again, I have to lock up my purse (in case i brought someone elses urine with me) pick my cup and give it a try. Still not over the line. Once again my bladder fails me. I hate my bladder. At this point i'm thinking about moving in...I know i'm going to be here for a while. In the mean time (while i'm gulping dixie cup after dixie cup of water) 3 guys and 1 girl come in, pee in their cup and leave. They're all in and out in 7 minutes. I've already been there for and hour and 15 minutes. I hate my bladder, i hate marshall fields, and i hate everyone else who can pee in cup.

At this point, my stomach hurts because i've had so much water. Then one other girl walk in and goes in the back to fill her cup. It's at that moment i realize i have to pee. Wait...I have to pee! Right now! I could fill 5 cups...right now! Hurry up girl...i have to go! The 30 gallons of water have caught up to me and now i hate my bladder for a whole different reason. So the girl finishes and i rush back...lock my purse, pick my cup, and fill it over the line. When i came out, the woman who runs the tests actually clapped for me. I was proud of my bladder. I successfully peed in the cup. Of course the sad things is that for the rest of the day...i couldn't stop peeing.

Times I used the phrase "pee in a cup"=8

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Back to retail for me!

So I haven’t updated this blog in months…though I’m pretty sure no one but Jean reads this. So, this is partially because there certainly have been blog worthy events in the last few months and partially because Jean sent and email asking me to update…

Well, I’m back from the Great River Shakespeare Festival. It was a long summer, but good to be back in Winona. Despite the changing town (new Rascals sign, no one I know at Videoland, new soda shop with delicious drinks…) it was nice to be there for a while. So I came back from Winona, returning to my own bed, free food from mom, Tony Sims, and a stage management job with the Fringe Festival. I started working on Corleone, a Fringe show by David Mann which is billed as the Shakespearean Godfather. The incredibly short rehearsal process was hectic, but now we only have 3 performances left. It’s the most popular show in the fringe so far…we’ve turned away dozens of people each day. Its kinda cool to be working the show in the fringe that is not only the most popular, but has a plastic fish…I like having that on my props list.

The problem is that this low paying fringe job is over on Saturday and my low paying job at the History Theatre doesn’t start until October...so I need a interim job (preferably not as low paying). I just happened to be walking through Marshall Fields and saw a hiring sign….why the hell not. 5 ½ years at Kohl’s didn’t kill me, a few months at Dayton’s (as it will always be to me). So after filling out the ½ hour application and then completing the ½ hour personality survey, I met with the HR manager. I meet with a department manager tomorrow who will find the department that “I will be the best fit for”. Please don’t let it be shoes. I hate feet. Don’t know why, I just do. I’m not sure what the pay will be, but sadly it doesn’t even matter. I need money so bad right now. I’m heading to California in a few weeks and I’m only gonna have about $200. Plus there are loan payments coming up…things are not looking good. Thus, it doesn’t matter how much it pays as long as it’s more than the $2.50 an hour I’m used to making. We’ll find out tomorrow I guess!

Jean and I meet our future selves

Of course one plus about being back home is heading to the MMC each Thursday. Oddly enough, the band took time out of smoking pot and being arrogant to talk to us the first night back. Smokey had his button on and thought it was Karma, Dave told me that he sang Yesterday for me, and Tony called me “mama”. We’ve seen a number of remarkably amazing dancers as always. There is “#14” who it turns out was a woman despite first appearances, “purse humper” who dancing with “toothless”, and then there were “jean and I in 30 years”. Jean and I were sitting at the rail in our usual spots enjoying a delightful Bud Light when I noticed a familiar pair of women on the dance floor. There was a blonde with big hair and a terrible dye job and a brownish red head with even bigger hair and an even worse dye job. We immediately recognized ourselves. Their clothing choices were amazing. Jean was wearing a brownish “suit” (I use the term loosely) with a green shell and black sandals. I was wearing a black shirt, white shorts, nylons and sandals. The real me turned to the real Jean and said;
“In 30 years don’t ever let me wear white shorts to the bar.”
“Only to the bar? I’m not letting you wear white shorts anywhere!”
“But what if I work at a Marina? I could wear them to a marina.”
“Ok, if they’re for work…but you can’t wear them out…like to Taco Bell.”
“Ummm, I’m pretty sure I could wear white shorts to Taco Bell…and to Hardees.”
“Ok, but no where else.”

Thanks Jean….you’re a real friend. I’m glad someone is watching out fro my fashion faux pas in 30 years. So Jean and I got an interesting glimpse into our futures at the MMC. Reason #572 why I love that place.