Tuesday, August 28, 2007

I Work So Much I Miss the Sunshine Away

Long long ago [six weeks ago] in a place far far away [my room], I said "I need to do my Sunday Top Ten," and Carly laughed and said "You mean your Tuesday Top Eight?" And I was like, "Ha ha ha!"-Slash-"Obvs." The main barrier to timely Top Tens right now is South of Nowhere, P.S., recap here, and honestly ... HONESTLY ... check it out. There's girls kissing, funny jokes, Smirnoff Ice, and a solid Fresh Prince of Bel-Air reference.

So remember how last week I like, spilled about 10% of my guts all over your computer screen? This isn't like that. I still feel a little excavated, like metaphorically half-naked, but I know the timing was actually perfect and the content necessary, and mostly: there's sooooo much I didn't say that I don't feel nearly as hollowed out as I could.

So, switching gears from totes emotional catharsis to frivolity ... writing this post feels kinda like we just had sex and now I'm pretending like we've never seen each other naked. D'you know what I mean? Anyhow this isn't a Sunday Top Ten either. Later this week, fo' reals.

Photo: to the left, to the left: Riese's first day of school [No clue which year, either Kindergarten, 1st or 2nd grade]. As you can see, I look hopeful and optimistic, eager to take another step forward in my education and grip the reins of my future, like they do at ITT Tech. Somehow I've emerged from said education with no marketable skills whatsoever. I suppose reading's been useful, but I taught myself how to read before I started kindergarten. Oh! There was that class where we learned to put condoms on bananas. Not so useful anymore, but whatevs. Anyhow, um ... right.

Oh! Speaking of not putting condoms on things; on Sunday Carly, Haviland, Heather, Matt, Roy and I went to an UH HUH HER concert at the Mercury Lounge in New York City. Also, FYI, Leisha Hailey is even cuter in person than she is on the teevee. And I don't say that about lot of people. I defo did not say that when I met um ... uhh ... I don't know. Whatever. The point is that I was like "HAY! Blablabla" and she was all sweet and then she was like "Who's this?" to Carly and Carly was like, "HAAAAY!" and then we were like, ::haayyyyy:: That's that. Carly has photos so I need to wait for those to really say more. Not of us with Leisha, as we obvs did not wanna seem like starfuckers [I actually remember saying "I'm a Guestbian," which is like, so super gross, what's wrong with me?] [Vodka], but just photos from the concert itself. But seriously; their music is super good. And I'm not saying that because L.H. is between my legs right now. Because let's be honest here: she totally IS NOT.

**

Last week, stuck in Dante's Inferno/work sans internet, I had the genius idea to live blog this momentous occasion, and by that I mean "write down a record of events in order of their occurrence in my notebook." Nothing about that place actually resembled the Inferno, P.S., besides the lack of internet. Also I've never read that book.

I had lots of elevated fantasies about this experience because I've worked about every job on earth except "tedious office job." Babysitter, agent assistant, waitress, retail salesperson, bartender, promotions, model, writer, housecleaner, sandwich artist, deli clerk, literary assistant, photgrapher, videographer, personal assistant, tutor, receptionist, teacher, hooker, crack/smack dealer and rock star. [Kidding about the last three.]

But not this. I've worked in offices, even as an Office Manager, but these weren't the terrible kind; I talked about books and music all day, earned $12/hour, considered my co-workers my buddies and usually spent my entire daily income on lunch.

I think you get on a track as a pre-adolescent – you either go food service, retail, or office. I went food service, since I enjoy eating food and being treated like shit by stupid assholes, which cemented my post-college crap-job fate--as in: why hire me for a random crap office job when you could hire someone with years of actual office experience? I cannot answer that question. There is no reason whatsoever to hire me, unless you need a fast typist. I can type pretty much as fast as is humanly possible. Seriously, if you saw me type, you'd want me to fuck you. JK. Only if you're a girl. JK again. Kinda. I polished my own nails tonight.

Also I know Quickbooks! And I somehow kicked ass on all the tests at the temp agency. Seriously, I was as surprised as you are about that. It was misleading.

OH! Also! So last week I said I thought I was developing the most loser-ish injury ever which I cited to be a bruise on my right wrist from typing too much, and actually, I was wrong. This is the most loser-ish injury ever:
That's from writing a lot of emails on my Dash while at "work" last week. Yes, that'd be a popped blister on my thumb.

***

Wednesday, August 22nd: Riese Goes To Work


HOME

6:18 A.M.: It must be so early. It's still dark out. It's probably 4 A.M. I'm tired. It's probably 9 A.M. Oh fuck. I've slept through my alarm! OMG. Neither of those things. Ew, it's 6:18 A.M. I have to wake up in 12 minutes. This is not the life for me.

6:30 AM: I wonder if Ryan notices that I'm awake so early! He must wonder if I have a job and I'm going to work today. Doo-dee-doo—look at me! I'm in such a hurry! I better make some coffee! I have to be at woooorrrrk at 8:30 A.M.!!

7:30 AM: I just got dressed in like, five minutes. Probs because my "clothes suited for an office" wardrobe is pretty minimal and I need to do laundry. Wow. I'm so good at budgeting time, I should put that on my resume.

7:35 AM: I should probably check my email before I go. Even though obvs I'll be online all da-yay. Unless maybe they have like, soooooo much work for me to do.


WALKING TO THE SUBWAY

8:10 AM: Leaving the apartment. It's still remotely possible that I could make it to Park Ave by 8:30 AM. It's not likely, but it's possible, because it's not 8:30 yet.


ON THE SUBWAY

8:20 AM: On the A-train. It's still not eight-thirteeee! Look at all the other grown-ups on the train with me. Hello! I'm going to work too! What smart shoes you're wearing. How are you? I don't think I like the book I brought for myself to read (Mysterious Skin). It was a good movie. I wonder if people are looking over my shoulder and seeing that I'm reading about cocksucking.

WALKING TO WORK

8:40 AM: Never-Eat-Sour-Wheat—a-HA! Park Avenue. My shoes go clop-clop-clop like horseshoes. I hate it. Oh well, the life of a working woman.

IN THE BUILDING

8:43 AM: There is no one here. Oh! Hello!

8:50 AM: I'm meeting my supervisor. I forget her name so I'll just call her Shavonda. She's telling me all about my JOB, which apparently involves doing absolutely nothing all day. Answering phones (luckily, that's my area of expertise) (Kidding, I am so bad on the phone, it's ridic). Perfect. I don't mind having nothing to do because I'll be online all dayyy! I can finish my blog! Hm. Why won't this turn on?

I'll ask Shavonda: "How do I turn on the computer?"

[I cannot transcribe her response as it was too shocking for me to really register her exact words.]

Wait—WHAT?!!!! NO INTERNET? NO COMPUTER???!!!

[Fighting back tears]
[This can't be real. This can't be real!]

9:05 AM: I bet I could kill myself with that irrelevant mouse cord.

9:10 AM: I'll just post from my Dash. Maybe I wasn't trying hard enough when I tried to do this before. Publish. PUBLISH. Fuck. Impossible. It's like G-d is laughing at me.

9:15 AM: I'm sitting in a semi-cubicle in a poorly lit room; about four other women are here--not temps. The woman directly next to me looks like she woulda been super-fly in high school and now's a little worse for wear, like it's possible she's got a grown son [update: she does.], but I like her 'cause she seems Sassy. You know, like the magazine, Sassy, where I'd be working if it still existed, Sylvia Plath/Mary McCarthy/Joan Didion - style. I'm going to refer to my cubicle-neighbor as "Molly," 'cause she's Irish. Also, she's got an incredible Brooklyn accent.

Molly [to Shavonda]: "It is freezing in here." [to me] "Isn't it freezing in here?"
Me: "Eh, not really."
[Molly shoots me look of death.]
Me: "I mean, OMG, it is so cold in here, brrrr, I'm getting delirious, I think I have frostbite, I can't move."
Molly [to Shavonda]: "See? How ridiculous is this? I mean, for Christ's sake, it's not like they're doing anything down there, they can't just come up and turn off the air conditioner? I'm not a mechanic, I'm not gonna get down on my hands and knees and tinker around with that thing."

9:20 AM: Better email Carly to tell her how miserable I am ASAP. Writing emails on the Dash is like being a morbidly obese middle-aged man eating a Tasti-D sample with a teaspoon. Can I get a contraction up in this bitch? Jesus.

9:25 AM: I'll write a letter to my Grandma! What a fantastic idea.

Dear Grandma,
I'm here at a temp office job, clawing my eyes out with boredom. Send money.

Love, Marie.



9:30 AM: There're so many things I could finish today if I had internet, I should make a list of those things. Wish there was an envelope I could steal to mail this letter to my Grandma.

9:40 AM:

Molly: "Pretty fun, huh?"
Me: "Yeah, I just wish I had a computer."
Molly: "They won't let you on the computer? They didn't give you a password?"
Me: "No."
Molly: "Jesus Christ. What are you supposed to do all day? Just sit there?"
Me: (sitting here) "I guess so."
Molly: "Jesus. Are these maintenance guys coming up or what? I mean, if I need to go out and get a pair of gloves, they should just say so, alright?"
Me: "Totally."

10 AM: It is freezing in here. I've never been so cold before in my entire life. Molly's planning a vacation online. ONLINE. My jealousy of her internet access and her vacation is a burning bitter kind of jeaousy, but it's not burning hot enough obvs, otherwise I wouldn't be freezing my ass off. Maybe I'll go check out the break room and get some coffee.

10:05 AM: Seriously, does no one drink actual cream anymore? They have hot apple cider, for Chrissakes, but no half-and-half. Oh! Here it is. Hm. I'll just open a new container. No one cares, I'm only here for three days. Little floaties at the top of my coffee. That indicates sour. Oh well. Maybe I'll get stomach flu and be sent home on sick pay.

10:20 AM – BATHROOM

Randomized Woman: "Pretty boring around here."
Me: "Yeah, I just wish I had internet. Then it'd be like, dream job!"
[awkward laughter]


10:30 AM: It's so cold in here. How early's too early for lunch? 11 AM? I think I used to eat lunch at 11 AM. When I was ... 11.

10:45 AM: Better email Carly again and let her know that I'm both cold and w/o internet. I should roll down my sleeves. Oh, they're too short. Like all my sleeves. Because I have monkey arms. WHY IS LIFE SO HARDDD?!!

10:50 AM: Major action: the temp supervisor just called to check in. She advised: "Pick up as much as you can today!" Hm. How about my SPIRIT? How about my WILL TO LIVE? Who's gonna pick THAT UP?

11 AM: Durrrrrrrr. What's cooler than cool? Anyone? Anyone? ICE COLD, y'all!!

11:05 AM: I should write a webisode for "Living it Out." Hm.

Morgan and Sam are in their dorm room.

Durrr.
How many times have I written that line?

11:07 AM: DURRRRRRRRR. My stomach is growling like whoa.

11: 10 AM: Molly's trying on her new glasses. Shavonda is planning a vacation to Las Vegas, she's leaving tomorrow. I wonder if I can use her computer when she leaves. I hate her and her internet and her vacation.

Molly: "Do you like my lesbian glasses?"
Me: "Yeah, they're hot."
Molly: "I can call them lesbian glasses beause my sister is gay. She's gonna love 'em. Her and her girlfriend will hang out with me. I think they make me look smart. My boyfriend doesn't like 'em. 'Cause he doesn't listen."
Me: "Why doesn't he like them? I think they're hot."
Molly: "Oh whatever, you know, men. They don't like anything. I like my lesbo glasses. He doesn't have to like them."
Me: "I like them."

Coincidentally, her glasses look just like Carly's new glasses, which I am wearing in this photograph:
Also, Carly is a lesbian.

11:15 AM: Okay I am freezing to death. Gonna go get some hot tea. Then I'll hold it to my face so everyone can see my misery. God, I could be writing so much email right now! WAAA!

11:17 AM: I'm gonna use like, every single kind of tea they have. That'll show 'em. Lipton-check. Green Tea-GOT IT! Peppermint-DONE. English Breakfast-YES PLEASE. This's gonna be a flavor explosion.

11:30 AM: Lunch. Fo'real.

LUNCH BREAK

11:35 AM: Hello, workers of midtown! Here I am! On my lunch break! I'm going to Barnes & Noble ASAP. Luckily I know the exact location of every B&N in Manhattan. These are the kinds of things you learn when you don't usually go to work every single day in the morning in an office. I refer to this kind of information as "useful information."

11:45 AM: Barnes & Noble
Why does this "going to work in a terrible office thing" feel so weird? I've been working between 20-60 hours a week in office-y environments for years. I think it's two things: location, and well, it's so – JOB. Like, the lit agency always felt like play-time. So did nerve, and--well--every job I've had since moving here. I mean, it was serious work, but I could be still drunk from the night before/wearing jeans/wearing yoga pants. But now I have real authentic misery job. I guess that's why those other jobs didn't exactly "pay a living wage."

NOON: I'm getting The Bell Jar.

12:30 PM: Hale & Hearty Soups is PACKED! Probs 'cause of the cold weather. I used to call Lo from Veronica's, when I worked for her, and moan: "All morning is anticipation of Tuscan White Bean Soup. Then I get my Tuscan White Bean Soup. Then I eat it. From there on out, it's all downhill."

12:45 PM: Guess I should check my voicemail before I return to the office. Oh. God. Whoa! Voicemail from ex. Isn't it weird how you can get so used to hearing someone's voice for hours and hours and hours and hours every single day and then you hear it again after not hearing it for a while and you're like, oh, you. She read my blog? HOW?! Awesome. Waa. Wish I still could get on blogger and delete everything like a totes reactionary weirdo.

BACK IN THE OFFICE

1 PM: Not screaming or showing emotion. I am totally fine. I bet Carly's wondering if I'm still miserable. I should email her. Done and DONE.

1:10 PM: I might cry. Not crying. Man, I could go for a good two or three extra hours of sleep one of these nights.

1:15 PM:
Molly: "No calls?"
Me: "Nope!"
Molly: "At least it's not too much work."
Me: "I think I'm addicted to the internet."
[silence.]

1:30 PM: OMG the phone is ringing. What do I do? What do I doooo?
Okay. It's for Vivian. I'll just put them on hold and figure this out.

1:32 PM: Who is Vivian?

1:35 PM: Vivian is not on any of these spreadsheets ... Vivian. Vivian. Hm. I wonder if she's here. She must have an extension, this mysterious woman.

1:37 PM: Maybe if I just sit here, it'll go away.

1:40 PM: Is he still on hold? Was he ever on hold?

1:45 PM: If he's still on hold now, he's clearly got some issues. He and Vivian should try to work their shit out.

2 PM: So cold. OMG, unexpected loaded text message, waaa. How do people do this? I'm at work, hello!!! Phone is dying. I've never seen my phone die before. I guess that's 'cause I don't talk on it.

2:30 PM: It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs ...

2:35 PM: Just LOLed remembering how Lo and I had a friend who was always depressed about something and so we called her "The Bell Jar." Ha. Oh, life. You and your jokes.

2:45 PM: It is FREEZING IN HERE. I am shaking. I keep thinking I could somehow get wireless somehow if I just tried hard enough. But with what? How? My teeth? Like that Daniel Pinkwater novel?

3 PM: What if my phone dies while I'm emailing Carly about how miserable I am? Fuck.

3:10 PM: I'll write my ex a letter. That would be therapeutic I think. "Dear Ex, I hate you. Love, Marie." Good. [JK!]

3:15 PM: Going to read this Writers Digest. I feel very good reading this at a job instead of at home, like I can take it or leave it [re: their advice]. This is the longest day of my entire life.

3:20 PM:
Molly: "I want chocolate. It just never ends, you know? It never ends."
[WORD.]

3:30 PM: notthinking about blog

3:35 PM: I would kill to update my blog right now. This is all my worst nightmares about work coming true:
1. My clothes are uncomfortable.
2. I cannot get on the internet.
3. Emotional issues are infringing with work. [Not that I have any, but whatevs.] [I should specify: I have no work, also I have no emotions.]
4. I had only one simple task and I could not accomplish it.
5. My phone is dead.

Just overheard the tail end of a conversation between two women down the hall, and I've got no clue what started it, but I mean, just, yeah:

Random Office Lady: "He should take the blood from the dog and wipe it on every single one of those guy's faces. Maybe they get turned on by that. Pigs. It just amazes me what people do for sport."

Seriously, I couldn't have made that up even if I'd really wanted to make some shit up.

4 PM: I'm so excited because the end's in sight. Also, I love Molly. She's talking about how her boss is single and lonely and her birthday is coming up and she's gotta get her something good.

Molly: "I'm gonna get my boss an edible creation. Ohhh! Juicy pineapple daisies! I mean, I gotta, you know? She's not married. She just works all the time, if she could be working 24/7 she would be. Who's gonna get her something nice? It's not like the dog's gonna get her something ... well, you never know."
.
She's talking about her lesbian sister now because she just used the word "lesbo" again and wants me to know that she can say that because her sister is a lesbian, and a cop.

I just nod absently, like someone who is not a lesbian or related to any lesbians. It's like, where do I begin?

Wow, I didn't even realise there's all these awkward conversations I haven't even figured out how to have yet. I mean, I've only recently figured out how to slip in a casual: He's dead when people ask "What does your Dad do?" and: She's gay when people ask if my Mom is re-married or anything. Or both of those, when asked about my home life in a seemingly innocuous way by a total stranger.

God, I'm like – I should be on Montel, what am I doing here? I should be on the g-dforsaken internet.

4:10 PM: I miss Tegan&Sara, the internet, oxygen, my bed, my iPod Sparky McNanostien and my Macbook Sparky McMacbookenstien.

4:45 PM: DURRRRRR.

Molly: "See, my son doesn't want clothes. I said I'll take him shopping for back to school – what am I, like he's six years old or something? He doesn't want to go shopping. He'd go to school barefoot, I swear to God. Mom, I don't want clothes. Mom, I don't need to get up, it only takes me five minutes to get ready, I'm not a girl. And you know what, he's always late. But he's growing up now. Mom, my phone doesn't work anymore. He says his phone doesn't work anymore!"
Me: "It doesn't work?"
Molly: "It can only take incoming calls. He can't make outgoing calls. Well, maybe you shouldn't've taken it swimming with you, like, what am I, a freakin' genius or something? God, I hate Algebra, but I've gotta do it for this online course on Phoenix Online to get my associates? Why do I have to do algebra? You know? I'm almost 41, I don't need to know this stuff. It's just cause I smoked so much pot in high school. I ask my son to help me, he's like, Mom, I don't know algebra. Oh, he knows algebra."
Me: "I like solving for x."

4:50 PM:

Molly: "I can't believe these people with the air conditioning. Did they come up there already? she says. I don't know, why don't you get a like, a system or something, where you write down when people want service calls and then you follow up and put a little check mark when they've come up I don't know, Diane. I love how this morning I was like Hi, it's a little chilly up here, and now it's like, five o'clock, and I'm like Diane, don't make me have to smack you. I know those guys are just downstairs, talking about what they're gonna do this weekend. I see 'em when I come in and out. I tease 'em about how they don't do any work. My boss is gonna flip out if she comes back and the air is still on. Flip out."

5:00 PM: OMG, now I just have another "boring day at the office blog." I'm supposed to be the anti-office! You are at your office, and I'm reporting live from the center of the dream! From the middle of the world! From New York City!

5:05 PM: The phone's only rung once all day and I fucked it up, which is a pretty solid track record. I love big corporations who pay people to do nothing.

5:10 PM: DURR. I need a new job. This one sucks. Also, I need internet ASAP. Better call Pam for job next week before she finds out I'm incompetent.

Pam: "Oh, that job was cancelled. So-rrry!"

Excellent. See, this is exactly what I hate about my life. Huh. What can I do with Liberal Arts? I wish I had the trust fund to go along with this attitude.

**

Day Two and Day Three I brought my laptop with me to work so I could get something done and on the pipe dream of wireless [obvs not] but I clearly I did not get anything done at all whatsoever. Howevs, I was able to use Photobooth to document my misery:




(By Day Three, I was clearly attempting to communicate my sexual preferences without having to actually vocalize them.)

In contrast, this is what I looked like on my first morning:

Though that photograph suggests otherwise, I was not on my way to work at a banana stand or anyplace else requiring massive amounts of joy. On Day Two, I typed some stuff on a typewriter and answered the phone twice. Day Three required two photocopying-related tasks and a few more answer-phones, and helping Molly with her algebra.

It was, howevs, surreal: I had this little gadget--the Dash--with it's limited access to the world I'd grown so accustomed to accessing constantly in a wider screen with full interactivity and an actual keyboard-- so accustomed to this that I'd in fact counted on it when I'd conceptualized the blog I wrote last week -- also, I suppose, counted on my ability to delete things as I receded, changed my mind about what I wanted to say forevs and evs.

I could read comments, I could fantasize about impailing myself with staples every time I spotted a typo I couldn't fix 'til hours later ("hart"! "on"! an accidental name-drop!), but I couldn't interact. Maybe it was good for me to be like that; to step back, concede control over this, too. Ultimately that was almost part of the unfolding: my daily web-impotence, knowing I'd have to simmer, wait, observe, feel. Wallow in reverb.

Also, I clearly started losing my mind from no sleep. I got super good at typing on my Dash though. I sent a few relatively long emails.

For some reason on the last day when Molly asked me what I 'do,' I started laughing and said I was a writer. She asked me why I was laughing. I didn't know what to tell her. It just seemed hilarious, saying "I'm a writer." It just made me laugh at myself.

30 comments:

Madey said...

Jesus Christ, this is the most depressing thing I've ever read.

Alright, I'm donating. Save the fucking empire.

Lozo said...

i really want to punch molly in the face.

those people were talking about michael vick. i hope.

i am not a label on this post. i'm just not trying hard enough.

i never do this, but my verif. is mudmow.

Latane_Blu said...

LMAO~~ Reise you crack me up. Did you feel all grown up are totally incompetent(lol) LIke you thought you were smart and intellectually evolved until you start a NEW job.

I can't believe you got up at 6:30am and still got to work late,with no breakfst. Girl you better get a move on and git er done and out the door(lol)

Always carry a jacket of some sort as I have learned that some have fairies who pay their utilty billsjudging from the below zero conditions they force us to work in. Hey, on the positive side it was hot as hell:)

JOB is good Reise JOB is good. Join the chant of the masses as they suffer through one mind numbing day after another. Ack!

dagny said...

reise-
i read your blog semi-regularly and it completely regularly cracks me up. lately i have also been relating to you a lot as i have the same dad (dead) and mom (gay) situation and i love reading your insights on it. i have pretty much gotten used to telling people about the first one ( my method is blatant and don't let them get to the pity stage) but the second one is a little more tricky (i feel like i should be proud...and am, but still its difficult). anyway i just wanted to let you know theres another out there and i appreciate you writing about it more than you know.

Crystal said...

Awesome post, very funny.

The post-sex/naked analogy is a killer. Analogy? or metaphor? This is why they should fire me and give my job to you; you'd know all about the things I that should, but don't.

My internet went down yesterday afternoon, and instead of throwing a tantrum I went to the beach with pen and paper, like back in the good ol' days. It wasn't that bad. But it was 3 hours, not 3 days.

Word verication is about 20 characters in length today, I've decided that google hates me, and I have no chance of typing it in correctly.
[update: I was right]

Abby said...

Awesome, awesome, awesome. LOLed all the way. I mean really, loved it!!
BTW I just remembered a dream I had last night that you and Carly were in LA and were going to have some big meeting with some TV people, it was all go.
Don't ask me why you guys appear in my dreams, I'm not obsessive or anything, I dream a lot, wish I would dream about...

laurrrrita said...

way to find humour in a bleak situation. on an entirely unrelated note, i would highly recommend listening to the song "augustine" by patrick wolf. he's no tegan & sara, but still, wow.

stef said...

this cracked me up a lot and reminded me of this one summer i interned at this non-profit that gave money to people who hid jews during the holocaust. the lady who ran it was super crazy out of her mind and would scream at me about how my generation think michael JORDAN is a hero, but HE'S NOT. and every time we got a huge phone bill she'd scream at the phone company about how many families in poland she could feed with the money they had overcharged us. and i felt so guilty about using her precious INTERNET that i regulated myself to like, refreshing cnn over and over again (i was afraid they could see what sites i was visiting and would JUDGE ME) and reading books about nazi medical experiments. most. depressing. summer. ever.

i can never work a business casual 'normal' office job again, i don't think. in my office we show up at noon and are only allowed to come in late if we're a) drunk or b) getting laid. you should come work for us.

my favourite part was the soup bit.
every day i call lenny's and ask them what their soup is, hoping it's the seven bean medley. we used to make that same seven bean medley at borders before their cafe became a seattle's best, and it was the highlight of my life. every day i call lenny's and every day the bitch says 'chicken noodle' and i sputter 'THAT'S IT?!?!?!?' and she audibly shrugs and i hang up in a huff.

you are hilarious. just so you know.

word veri: nnnveq, but i'm dyslexic (or something) so i saw 'non veg,' which means carnivore.
this is the worst comment ever. ha.

MoonKiller said...

That was so funny.

'6:18 A.M.: It must be so early. It's still dark out. It's probably 4 A.M. I'm tired. It's probably 9 A.M. Oh fuck. I've slept through my alarm!' Story of my life. I'm back in school next week and have no idea how I'm going to get up at 6. I've gotten used to going to sleep at 2 and waking up at 11.30 to catch Friends.

'And Mary had the soup of the day, which was Friday.' - Royle Family.

cait said...

this dash thing really seems like a hot mess, as does molly..

this whole story makes me feel sad. i couldn't imagine having to go to a place like that everyday.. i mean 3 days is fine, and you got a funny blog, but i mean really.. that's terrible..

my idea, switch to the bberry, go back to the inferno, throw the dash at molly.. might make you feel better, and might warm her up a bit... jesus

Adam said...

Deleted my last comment due to utter failure to read. I missed the word 'late' in "only allowed to come in late" and...well...yeah. I was about to sound bonus stupid.

Annnnnyway...

The reason I was commenting in the first place was that I can't stop laughing at someone saying "lesbo glasses" over and over again, getting some fetishized joy out of the way the word 'lesbo' feels in their mouth.

riese said...

madey: I'm perusing a few selections of uppers right now and I'll let you know how it works out. Hmmm .... [you rock!]

*

lozo: I really wanna punch Michael Vick in the face,whoever he is.

*

latane_blu: Yes, jobs always have their own special way of making me feel like an idiot. Like really who cares if I can write a 20 pages paper about the odyssey? Can I transfer line two to line one w/o fucking it up? (the answer: no). I think I would have a jacket but in NYC you have to carry everything on your person, and that's a lot of stuff to carry. But I obvs did the next two days.

Oh, I totes had breakfast. A LeanPocket, per ushe. Never skip breakfast, most important meal of the day, etc.

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dagny: Really?! I love finding out that there're others with the same family sitch as me. We are a rare rare ... thanks for commenting, and yeah, there's no good way. I try to cut off the pity too ... not that I'm numb to it, but that I'm so used to speaking about it-- if I think about it, I want to jump out the window, but the fact that I'm being forced to talk to someone about it--as in, delivering the facts--has nothing at all whatsoever to do with whether or not I'm thinking about it. Obvs I'm not, otherwise I'd be at home, alone, not in whatever public situation I've been put in to answer such queries. If that makes sense. Hm. I should do a "Some Awkward Questions" post.

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crystal: I think it's an analogy. Hang on let me look it up (isn't this your part? The "let me google that right now" part) Yeah, three hours sans-internet can be quaint and nice, particularly if spent on the beach. I think it's an analogy, because it's not just that it's like something else, it's that it's a very similar situation with many similar points in terms of how one feels afterwards etc. I use all these figures of speech with relative abandon, which is probs why I write a blog and not a magazine.

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abby: Dude, it's okay. I've dreamt about Crystal before too. [Crystal! I have to tell you about this crazy dream I had!] haha. Someone--though I can't remember who--had an amazing dream about Haviland and I. I can't remember who it was though, it was a blog reader. I've dreamt about Moonkiller, and Lozo ... I feel like maybe Merc too. I've had so many random dreams about various internets peoples that it's kinda ridic. But lately I haven't had any dreams about people I know in my "real" everyday flesh-and-blood life. Probs means something.

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laurrrita: Will download. I think finding humor in bleak situations is probs the only way to go on in life without stabbing one's eyes out with paper clips. Can I quote Emily Saliers, because I will. Okay: "you have to laugh at yourself, because you'd cry your eyes out if you didn't."

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stef:I love the randomized figures that crazy people select as the protagonist of their rants. (Michael Jordan). Also, I would've loved to be the phone company rep getting that call.

See one time Crystal said casually "If you want some random extra freelance work, you could work for us," and I was like 'REALLY!!???' and then I did. So be careful what you say about working for you. Because um, I'll be there, on your doorstep, semi-drunk, wearing jeans and about three hours late, ready to sleep off my hangover in time for a booze cruise. You can deflect all your lesbian admirers onto me.

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moonkiller: Yeah, wow, I totes remember the feeling that'd start coming over me 'round this time of the year, like, fuck, how on earth am I going to get up for school in two weeks? And I'd try to develop some bullshit plan to get back on a "regular cycle," which never worked. The first day I'd usually have bad allergies and be tired as fuck.

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cait: I know she could give the dash to her son, seeing as his phone doesn't work. She got better and better as the days went on. She also tried to tell me that I COULD get wireless because she could get wireless, and I was like, huh, okay, that's interesting, and then it turned out to be that same stupid thing people say all the time where they think if they get phone reception, somehow a wireless laptop connection will function. I mean, really papi? Really.

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adam: I know she just loves how "lesbo" tastes on her lips, obvs. But don't we all?

DMost said...

Love 'The Office' pic...They should totes make a Reise character on that show...And maybe throw a Molly in to comment on all things 'lesbo'.
Love reading the blog from down here in my southern school, makes me think about my northern home and reminds me of the difference between people down here and up there.Ohhh the many differences.

And yeah, I'm gonna have to agree with lozo, they were prob talking about michael vick.

lawlaws said...

Sounds like you might need an iphone. Maybe we could all donate to get you one. Cos let's face it, no updates = unhappy readers.
But on the other hand, no updates gives you trouble which gives us something amusing to read about. You've got to be cruel to be kind.

If I'm ever without internet I go crazy. My mum is the same; so when she knew that she'd be spending a lot of time at my grandmothers after my granddad died, she made my gran get wireless and a macbook. She's 80 years old! Hahaha. I love getting emails from my gran, so frickin' cute.

I totes had a dream about you and Haviland once.

Abster said...

I love that movie Clockwatchers. It's one of those movies with a great cast that went under the radar. Parker Posey is my fav, and I always forget that's Toni Collette. I've had so many boring office jobs it's hard to count. Literally hours upon hours "pretending to look busy". Interships were the worst, esp when there were too many interns there for one day. We would practically attack each other for anything to do, "oh please let me file 1,000 negatives, I love filing."

Razia said...

I read the first half of this in class and with five mins left I scrolled down to see how much there was left to read and came across the pics and I was like "I bet she dressed like that on Day # 3 to give that Molly lady hints" bc I totally do that and then when I read the rest of the post now and you actually did do that I was like gobsmacked. I wonder if everyone does that?

"I wish I had the trust fund to go along with this attitude." For real. Seriously. Word. Amen. Preach.

I loved so many things about this post like for starters how effin funny it was, how amusing Molly is, the name for your Nano and Macbook etc etc.

Oh ps. I think the ladies with the dogs and blood and getting off were referring to that Michael Vick dog fighting thing. I only know of this bc all things dog interest/enrage me right now seeing that my evil wench of a mother gave my dog away while I was on vacay. Like I'm 5 or something, seriously. I'd like to clarify that I am 21.

Ann Onnie-Muss said...

Yay! Funny post.

Personal favourite was letter to grandma - you should so send it!

Abster said...

I too loved your letter to grandma. Here's something non blog related, have you seen this?

www.annarborisoverrated.com

what a freak.

Haviland said...

Lawlaws...what was the dream about?

riese - seriously, this is depressing/hilarious, as I had a couple of days exactly like that when I was temping that summer in Atlanta...only, replace Molly's Bklyn accent with a very thick southern one, and add a couple of guys who think its AMAZING to talk about the "gentlemen's clubs" they go to the night before with said 20-yr-old temp.

Hm...yeah. I pity everyone who has jobs like this. Let's get this empire going so no one has to sit there bored.

:)

lawlaws said...

haviland, i can't really remember. It was something vaguely to do with going shopping with you two in NY. Then reise and I watched you in 'Cats'. Which I remember thinking was odd the next day because you are in 'Les Mis'.

I think it was when I was reading through all of reise's blog posts when I had nothing to do one day. So I had completely OD'd on auto-win. And all of the fun stories were swooshing around in my mind. A certain photo of you two semi clad with snowboards also came into it.

Was that TMI? Meh, we can't help what we dream about. It is all subconscious thought at the end of the day.

AK said...

That is the most adorable Reiselette picture ever. I think you should use it in your fundraising campaign, ie with the headline: "You can send $5 and save the artistic ideals of this young soul or you can turn the page and leave her to rot on the mind-numbing, soul-destroying cubicle farm."

I hope you get internet back soon because I posted a picture of myself at 19 dressed as Patti Smith from the cover of Horses. I thought you would get a kick out of it. Totes Shane.

Dante's Inferno was where I learned that homos occupy the same level of hell as bankers on account of the sin of usury. This has given me comfort over the years.

Atherton Bartelby said...

Ok. Several things.

One: Often I do not know how or what to comment to your entries because literally like a thousand thoughts go through my head while reading each one of them and, obviously, imagined responses to each.

Two: I love you. You wear the same outfits to work that I wear.

Three: "See that old lady over there?" *screaming* "Yeah." *screaming* "That's me in twenty years."

Four: I would totally donate if I weren't myself missing the sunshine away.

Five: YOU ARE TOTES AWESOME!

Bridget said...

def at that concert! holla

riese said...

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dmost: "Riese, 25: cannot perform even the simplest of office-related tasks. Rolls her eyes visibly and often. Is either totally socially awkward or thinks everyone around her is a retard, or some combination of both, or the latter is really a defense mechanism developing due to the former."

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lawlaws: It was you! It was totally you! It was an amazing dream, I can't remember what it was. My Grandma tried to write me an email once. I don't know if it made even anything remotely related to what we call "sense." Also; I'm sure everyone was dreaming about us with the snowboards. At least Heather was maybe. Hm. There's no such thing as TMI, I tell myself.

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abster: I forgot it WAS toni collette until I searched for the photos. I loved that movie. My supervisor was super passive/agressive, she'd be like 'whenever you get a chance, can you type this up?" and I was like 'whenever I get a chance? I'm WRITING EMAIL ON A DASH underneath my desk!" obviously i'm not occupied with any activities. I was like, always a ridiculously busy intern. Hm.

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razia: doing that=story of my life more often than i'd like to admit. I act 12 and I'm 25. I love naming my gadgets, for one thing.

True story, pulled straight from the ichax log a few days ago:

haviland: omg how old are you
riese:11.
12.
actually i'm too moody for 11
haviland: go to bed.


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anoniemuss: Dude, I still haven't sent it! I actually wrote her a full letter. I think if I actually asked her to send money, she'd be like "um, what money, weirdo?" and then I'd be like "I was in a bad mood. Send cookies. And a letter making fun of grandpa. I love you!"

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havi-land: I totes told you about it at the time I think, though now I can't remember what it was anymore. I can't imagine you temping, I just imagine you being that woman in the episode of Six Degrees in the office. Like "Havi plays office!"

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ak: I know right? My favorite part is 1: that my shoes match my outfit, 2: my boy haircut. Totally my soul is in destruction right now. Didn't I comment on that blog post? That picture was amazing, like I obvs remember it as I had to do a double, triple and quadupre (whatever that word is) take and was like "holy shit, that picture is amazing." Maybe I put it on my shared items but forgot to comment. I've obviously been losing my mind/soul lately.

Thanks for the sum-up, totes don't need to read it now obvs.

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atherton: Oo ! Move in with me and we can share clothes. And Molly actually even SAID that: "Watch out, or you'll end up like me." I think it was in the context of "men and the crazy things they do." I was like, dude, you need a new boyfriend who does not like NASCAR obvs. no, YOU are totes awesome !

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bridget: HOLLA!

The Spaz said...

My office is located in an arena. There comes to be a point where you get used to the cold and do not feel it anymore. Its the rare days of insidious dampness really where it'll sneak up on you and creep inside your bones. Of course the bad part of this is I can no longer stand heat.

Temperature aside I can totally relate to the sucky office job thing. I've had many many many awful jobs. I was even a nanny once. Like Mary Poppins. Only without the British accent or the flying umbrella or the nice singing voice.

I've totally had my fill of working already. If I knew I was in anybody's will I'd totes off them. Its funny, when I went to school I was so poor, I've more money now but it doesn't go nearly half as far anymore. How does that happen?

Oo Lynnie oO said...

1st of all...hot bowlcut.

was this entry about the summer i worked in my mother's office? i think so! FUCKTHAT is all i can say...i feel your pain. i used to hide on some secret stairs with another girl whos mom worked there...sounds dirty, but sadly, it was not...but it was warmer in there! i don't know what the deal is with offices and hardcore AC...hm. middle aged women and their hot flashes...

also, ps; i don't have the internet in my apartment up at school yet...so i've missed you!
internet = <3

Shannon said...

Ooh yeaah. The cuff...totally 'mo ;)

Rebecca said...

My mom calls using the internet "doing the internet." As in, "The next time you're doing the internet, can you send me that picture?" She is an immigrant so sometimes gets words wrong, but as the internets were invented after she got to Amer-EE-ca, I think this is just old person syndrome. I thought you might think it is funny. The End.

riese said...

The Spaz:

An arena? Like what kind of arena? Like a hockey arena? I like that image, the bone-creeping. I am sensitive to all temperatures; heat, cold, whatever. It all gets to me. I like cold better if I'm prepared.

If I knew how that happened, I probs wouldn't be in this situation, I think. Wheee/wha!

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Lynnie:

Thanks, I'm thinking about bringing back the bowl cut. Like the Beatles. Maybe you're right about the middle aged women and their hot flashes -- dude molly's boss CALLED IN SICK because of the air conditioning. She was apparently not having it.

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Shannon:

TOTES. the popped collar was my main point, though, but apparently no one cared/noticed. Sigh.


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Rebecca:

I love that. And I do think it's funny. I love how old people talk about the internet. They all have their own special and amazing way.

The Spaz said...

Totes a hockey arena and not a nice new temperature controlled one either.

Actually its a bit like when you drive with somebody who got into a fight and had their girlfriend break their car window so they just taped a garbage bag up until they could scrape up enough money to buy a new one, all of the time. If you know what I mean.