So: it occurred to me that any prospective roommate or employee who googles me will find this. After they die a little inside and their whole heart explodes, they'll be like what's this "Automatic Lose" about? And then think: "Will she pay the rent?" and "Will she ever truly understand the grammatical purposes of that vs. which?" It'd be better for them to find the "I'm So Rich I need 20 more IKEA shelves just to store my money" post, the "How many months can I win 'Employee of the Month' before the other employees kill me? Oh wait: they'd never kill me. They love me!" post or the "I'm Such a Great DishWasher, my Dishes Get Clean Before I'm Finished Eating" post. But life is not always "better," kiddos.
DISCLAIMER: Mid-draft of this week's Sunday Top 10, I totes FOUND AN APARTMENT! With two amazing kids uptown. I don't even have to change the banner, because it's still Warlem/Harlumbia.
AND THUS: This whole Sunday Top 10 is semi-obsolete. Ten Little Pieces, if you will.
I'll say this, and I mean it [!!!], thanks, all ye fans who've sent me encouraging e-mails/comments. I'll think of you when I'm wearing pantyhose at the Dairy Queen in Greenbo, Alabama.
I've been offered the following living arrangements:
-Heather's futon is "comfy" and they have "wifi and junk," "a trampoline," "nintendo wii," and a "40-oz or two."
-Natalie's invited me to "crash" with her in Cleveland, Ohio, "any time, baby."
-Rachel'd love to, but there's that "living with mother thing" and "aforementioned zillions of miles" away thing. That's fine, she's got suggestions: The Mormons would find me "very entertaining" in Utah, and the Peace Corps would "EXPAND" my "WORLD" and add "DIMENSION," DEPTH," "SHINE" to my shag and my writing. Also told that school's a waste of everything--that's from the employed dropout of my high school, Interlochen. I'm the unemployed graduate, so--I trust her.
Rachel/Mercury/Noxious also wins the 'COMMENT OF THE YEAR' award.
-"Chase"/TD says to "fuck" her offer made earlier that day, re: living with cats [that I'm allergic to] with her and Chelain.
-"moonkiller" says I could be homeless, but by homeless she means "Starbucks," which would actually be perfect, because my situation is basically their fault, like all the world's problems are. I'll be like "hey, you Capitalist warmongers, look who's sleeping in your customers-only restroom now, bitches!
-razia says "move to Australia" where its "patriotic to always be drinking." C'mon, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible No Good Very Bad Day: we're moving down under. With Adrienne and Sam and maybe Alicia some day?
-Cameron's pull-out couch is "totally here for [me]!" It's described as "not uncomfortable."
-A series of platonic sleepovers with Haviland [I already have keys, so like: see you in ten].
-TB says to "never worry about anything" ever, and that I will "never be homeless," and if worse comes to worst, she's got at least 5 back-up plans for me. It's good to have a girlfriend handy during Winters of my Discontent.
But Karen hands-down totes wins, with an offer to come stay with her in Nyack:
"It's not exactly the most convenient place, but there's heat, air conditioning, cute dogs to play with, endless supplies of granola bars and kickass wine and vodka." Um--it will BECOME the most convenient place, because it will be the only place I want to be. Every time Hav and I go to Nyack, we moan for the last three hours about how we wish we could stay forever.
Sunday Top Ten: Marketable Skills, Nunchuck Skills, Bow-hunting Skills, Roommate-able Skills
I'm a super-fast typer. I just took an online typing test: 113 WPM. HOLLA! In 4th grade, I clocked in at 80 WPM, and all the future lezbos wondered: "Hmm...I wonder what else she can do with those fingers," and my other classmates gaped: "Marie, you're the fastest typist in the Universe." That was '91, so just imagine how good I am now. For example, I didn't even KNOW Algebra then, and now I can totes solve for "x." Maybe I could be one of those girls with the type-machine things in courtroom dramas. Or Dame Sally's typist in Little Britan.
9. Talking about Myself/Listening to you Talk about yourself
I do 2-3 paragraphs about myself, followed by 2-3 paragraphs of apologies for talking so much about myself. This would be a good service for old people who's children won't talk to them anymore, or for annoying people with no friends. You can just sit down in my room and yabber your melon all day long. I won't move, because I'm in an abusive relationship with Real Estate. Totes cycle of abuse, etc.
8. Food Services:
I've been serving bad food to annoying people since 1995. I've served four years at bad Italian restaurants and I was even a trainer at the Mac-Grill, but I was secretly a terrible waitress. I couldn't "sell" food to diners. I mean, they came to a restaurant to eat, right? Who am I to tell them what to eat? I am not their stomach. Also, sometimes I'd just completely forget stuff. Like, completely. As in, 12 hours later: "Oh yeah, lemons!" The up-side of this experience: I know how to pair bad Italian food with wine, how to cook some things, and how to deal with people I despise. Also, as a young deli-clerk in Michigan, I closed 3 nights a week [couldn't open, due to high school], which means I washed dishes and floors and windows and cases and jars and coolers for many hours for $4.75/hour, which means I know how. Hypothetically. To clean. Kitchens. For "free."
When Don made me the Vice Prez of Accounting, he said: "You'll be able to put Quickbooks on your resume now." This felt strange. I'd started working at the lit agency because I like literature, but then he offered me a raise to do accounting and Quickbooks. But would I EVER want to do Quickbooks again, on purpose? Because, like, it led to spending 100% of my work-hours on AIM talking to J-Nads about our lesbian sitcom and checking Gawker every ten minutes and writing this blog more regularly than I do now. Wait. Those things sound not so bad.
6. Sort of Mediocre Web Design:
I am the webmaster at a lit agency. I am my own web master. I think "master" is a really lofty term. I bet whomever designated "master" to the "person in charge of web design" position was once a "Dungeon Master." If you know what I mean.
I think my true fate in life is to be Dear Abby [I mean that proverbially, as I've never read Dear Abby]...Maybe I'm so good at playing therapist is 'cause I've experienced firsthand and/or 'therapized a good friend" on most fathomable varieties of relationship issues/conflicts...or it could just be that I'm totes non-judgemental. I'm so open minded, it's like there's a wind tunnel in my brain. Except I'm no good at assisting you if your cat just died. I just feel like: it's a cat, you know? News flash: cats don't live forever. I didn't cry at graduation either. Usually I'm okay if I know what's coming, it's the surprises that get to me. e.g. articles being killed.
Two primary thought-lines simmered in my brain during my "Reiki I" certification workshop:
1. does the instructor know her fly is unzipped,
2. why is it so unfathomably hot in this room? I am going to die.
But side note: I'm good at massage, too. I used to do Reiki on Matty, he said it worked like magic. However, Matty also planned to "build marajuana groweries in outer space" and "teach the retarded kids to make birdhouses" and claimed that "you can run from the police, if you sit right, because my theory is: skipping is faster than running."
I don't know much about "weights," though Lo gave me one free hour of un-certified personal training at her gym once. But I'm really good at motivating you to go to the gym. 'Cause sometimes, when it's raining outside and my heart is heavy and my soul is uneasy, I'm all: "Gym time, bunnies!" Then we get there and you realize I spend 30 minutes reading a magazine on the Stairmaster, do 3 crunches and bounce. But I got you there, right? Like, run, yeah? RUN! Skipping is faster than running!
In college, I made some quick bucks writing papers for my less linguistically-inclined classmates/friends. This started as "proofreading," but the papers'd be so bad I'd say: "Just let me write it for you, yeah?" I can read someone's work and get into their head real fast. This is problematic re: my own writing, as I take on the style of whomever I'm reading at the time. I can locate my specific phases of writing directly influenced by, consecutively: Beverly Cleary, Our Town, Raymond Carver, Jonathan Franzen, Lorrie Moore and Mary Gaitskill.
1. Jester-Related Skills
In the old days, kings would be like "I'm sad. Geoffrey, bring me a Jester!" Now kings probably just read blogs and troll College Humor. I'm bringing jester back so I can sport leggings 24/7.