The No Phone Zone

I have never had a phone die on me before. It was an interesting experience. I realize now, in retrospect, that my phone has been hinting at permanent shut-down for the several weeks prior to its ultimate demise. What were some of these hints you ask? Well, for one, the damn thing NEVER was able to sync with my PC at all. But I didn’t think that was a big deal, since all my ringtones were on my memory card anyway. But then that totally corroded , and yep- still wasn’t able to hook up to my PC. I figured maybe I just needed a software update. Trying to get an update turned out to be a complete fiasco. For some reason T-Mobile no longer offers the software updates necessary for their Android phones, so I was instructed to go onto Samsung’s website and download a program from there. I did this…guess what? My phone STILL wouldn’t connect to my PC, so I wasn’t even able to get the updates available. Again, I figured this was no big deal.

A few more weeks passed, and my phone started performing odd functions on it’s own. It was opening Apps that I hardly ever used. It was also opening different APPs than the ones pressed. For instance: I would go to open Instagram and Pinterest would open. And no, the two APPs weren’t next to one another on my Home Screen. I’d go to open Facebook and it would tell me that no such app existed. So what did I do? I just uninstalled and then reinstalled those troubled applications. Then my phone started powering off in the middle of the day for no reason. I of course assumed maybe the battery was just dying (I do alot with my phone) and I would just charge it. Let’s not even get into the screen constantly freezing, my texts messages not showing up on the screen, my sending multiple messages (when I only really sent one) and receiving triplicate texts from other people. I was constantly being kicked off the network, I was always losing internet connectivity, and in its very last legs the phone wouldn’t charge on any other charge but it’s own. This latest was discovered when away for a weekend in Saratoga, when I accidentally left my charger at home. I was unable to get the battery above 30% power for two days. When I did get back home, aside from the few malfunctions I’ve already mentioned, my phone seemed normal…

Until yesterday, when it just faded to black in the midst of me sending a text message. It tried valiantly to turn itself back on- it got as far as the Samsung Loading screen before it just gave up, made a soft noise, and then just kept vibrating  like it was going to do something…anything. Again, I figured maybe the battery was just done and attempted to plug it in when back from lunch. Still this black screen and gentle vibrating. I finally called T-Mobile who informed me that my phone was most certainly dead, but because I have insurance they would more than happily send me a new phone overnight. The Customer Service Rep, named Gina, suggested I take the old phone with me to a store and see if it’s possible to save any of my photos since for whatever reason I was unable to transfer them to my shiny & new SD Card. I hope she’s right and they can manage to salvage something, especially because the pics of my two dead cats are on there. It’s not as though I can have those hot messes pose from the kitty grave. Sigh. Here’s hoping I receive a phone that actually works properly…if not…T-Mobile and I may have to part ways for good. *tears*

She had a dream…

So, I’ve learned today that the Project Manager at work is also a closet racist. At least when it comes to books. We have talked at length about some of the novels we like to read and she is always going on about how she wishes there were more black characters. Her need for brown faces runs so deeply, that she will  change the race of a character, in her mind, even if the description of said character is clearly of the Caucasian persuasion. 

This morning, we had a pretty lengthy talk about Period Romance Novels as well as continued our discussion on the book she borrowed last week (that she hated). In this discussion she said about 4 times how happy she was that the Main Character was an Asian woman. “Oh, I’m just so happy she wasn’t WHITE. I’m glad to see she was at least Asian”. She repeated this very sentence, all 4 times. Then when we spoke about what we hated about period romances, she goes “I don’t want to hear about how this guy touched or raped her WHITE flesh. Like come on. It’s a total turn off for the author to mention a character’s color. Let a person be a person”. But she follows this up with once again repeating her Asian proclamation. And…do you guys understand what a period romance is? NOBODY WAS BLACK BECAUSE ALL THE BLACK PEOPLE WERE SLAVES. Her racism is also evident, during her attempts  to cast book characters in imaginary movie adaptations that will never ever be made. Last week, we discussed the In Death series by JD Robb- not only would she make the head medical examiner a black woman (who is a middle aged white man) she would also make one of the detectives (who is also clearly described as white) a young black man because she has “no interest in seeing an entirely white cast”, even if that’s what the author has written. 

Finally understanding her pathological desire , I offered up a suggestion. Especially if she planned on reading more paranormal/supernatural stuff, I didn’t want her to feel like there were only white werewolves out there, so I said “Well, if you’re concerned about having a mostly ethnic, non Caucasian cast of characters, I can suggest you read LA Banks. Her characters are mostly non white”. Do you want to know what her reply was? “Oh! I don’t really care about that. They can be white characters. I read all kinds of things, from all kinds of authors”. And yes, she was serious. Clearly, she’s been lying to herself or believes she’s really fooling someone. Naturally, I had to tell someone about this latest fiasco of a convo- and yes it was Maria.

Maria: Good luck finding a historical romance with non-whites…What black person reads historical romances where the main characters are black? Who wants to read about slaves falling in love, under the whip and being parted by going to the highest bidder. WTF? I’ve got a book for her ass.

—And here ends my blog. LOL.

Quoth the Raven…

“Nevermore will I lend this particular Coworker as much as a magazine, let alone a book”…

I’ll try to keep this as short and as clear as possible:

Dear Coworker, Don’t ask to borrow a book from me, and then complain about the book. Especially if it’s not a book I’ve suggested for you. Even more so if it’s in a genre you’ve never read before. If you’re into murder mysterious or true crime (as you seem to be), then the paranormal/supernatural/erotica books I read may not be for you. Having a few books in common, does not make us kindred spirits in the world of literature. It just means we’ve read some of the same books. I don’t want to hear your complaints, just give back my book and keep it moving. Next time, ASK me if I have anything you’d be interested in, instead of just assuming (even after reading the synopsis) that you’d just love whatever it was I had in my hands. I’m very good at book suggestions, and I know a conservative/traditional thinker when I see one- so I’ve got a separate list for you. Don’t judge me or my reading material when no one asked for your damn opinion or critiques, or even suggested lending you ANYTHING.

Also, try not to look so aggrieved now that you’ve realized  I’m not in love with the book YOU DEMANDED to borrow. As though I waxed poetic about this (in your eyes) crappy & confusing material, and duped you. You didn’t ask me what I thought before dictating your desire to read the book in question. Had you asked me, I’d have told you that it’s okay but I’ve read better, and I also would have told you that you probably wouldn’t like it. I’m not going to take this one for the team, because it was YOU who wanted the book. But because of this bad experience, you are henceforth banned from my book club. FOREVER. AND EVER. AND EVER. 

But honestly, I shouldn’t even be surprised this happened. You are, after all, the woman I keep arguing with about how shitty 50 Shades of Shit was. Anyone who can look me straight in the face and say those books were good, clearly has problems. SMDH.

 

I need a hero…

Why I’m Single, and will remain so. My wait will be worth it. I’ve got standards and shit. *straight face*

Shawty is a 10…

On my way to lunch this afternoon, I overheard a conversation between two gentlemen riding in the elevator with me. They were discussing this woman in their office who seemed to be into Guy number 1. Guy number 2, was listening attentively as Guy 1 tried to explain how he’s not sure how he feels about this woman. Something about her physically appeals to him, and he likes how she speaks to him. “All flirty”. Guy 2 tried to tell him that she spoke to everyone in the office that way, even the other women, but Guy 1 wasn’t trying to hear that nonsense. So, as the elevator doors opened and we all exited, Guy 1 was still waxing poetic about this super star lady. And then he goes…”But I don’t know if I should pursue this. She’s not my type.”

PAUSE. What about all the wonderful things he said made this woman not his type? He didn’t answer me when I asked him “How is she not your type if you like her?” He kind of just walked off with Guy 2, offended, because I wasn’t minding my business. But come on man. He just spent 7 minutes talking non stop about this chick, barely taking a breath or letting Guy 2 get a word in, but she’s not his type? BULLSHIT. Don’t ask me why this offended me. But it seriously did. And a part of me wanted to chase him down and give him a stern talking to…

Gentlemen, if you are feeling a lady’s vibe, if you enjoy spending time with her, and she makes you laugh, and turns you on: why the fuck are you questioning that shit? If you’re experiencing all of what I just mentioned, then she IS your type. Maybe what you’ve been chasing after all this time wasn’t for you, and this breath of fresh air is just what you’ve been needing in your life. Get it together fellas, Get.It.Together. And by “it” I mean your life and your sexy part joined with hers. Boom.

You’re welcome,

Gail-Code.

A general update

Hey Folks,

I didn’t get the job I interviewed for last Friday. Apparently I didn’t come off as though I could handle working in a high paced environment, or deal with a lot of pressure. It’s okay. I got some pretty good constructive feedback from my recruiter, and I’m sure my next interview will be kick ass.

I am still adjusting to my tattoo. I do think it’s beautiful, and I love the colors that were used. A friend of mine pretty much hit the nail on the head of why I was feeling such angst. To sum up her words, she pretty much reminded me that I’m very conservative in my appearance, and since tattoos are anything but conservative, I’m having a hard time making the dual natures of my personality coincide (on the outside). I couldn’t give less of a fuck what people think of me, but I at least like to look as though I give a shit. It’s how I fool the masses, you know? It’s in my nature to be subversive. Can’t be subversive if people see you (or your tattoos) coming. What I just said probably makes me sound like a sociopath…damn.

I’m not sure how a lot of you feel about Sandra Bullock or Melissa McCarthy but “The Heat” was friggin hilarious. If you thought Melissa’s character in “Bridesmaids” was hysterical, you’ll find her portrayal as a female Boston Detective even more so. Go see it if you have some time and extra cash. I think I laughed the entire movie, even when people got shot. It’s THAT funny. If you aren’t as amused as I was, then you’ll at least want to be Melissa’s character when you grow up. She is who I long to be in every single situation in life: brass, bold, and scary as hell. (I’m not joking, I seriously wish I was like that).

I’m going to Miami in September. Another friend of mine pulled an intervention, and is kind of forcing me to go and relax. She made all the plans, she found a great deal, and she is arranging for us to get to and from the airport in both cities. I am in total love with her right now, because even though I know I need a real break, I wouldn’t have taken the time or the money to have one. So, thank you Cupcake-Pop. I hate that you know me, but not really. *hug*

–And for now, that’s all. Thanks for listening (reading).

My Tattoo Experience…a tale of surprising woe.

So here is where the blog about my first tattoo experience is supposed to be written. And I will say that, for a “first time”, it wasn’t a horrible experience at all. I had a friend with me, the artist was extremely nice and accommodating, and I was impressed with how professional he was. I didn’t bleed, I wasn’t in a lot of pain, and although this Tatt is still fresh I don’t feel much soreness. The design was and still is beautiful, and the colors used were perfect for my skin tone. Like I said, overall this was a lovely experience…and here is where my neurosis comes into play…

I looked at the placement of the stencil for a solid 3-4 minutes. I looked at it in the mirror as instructed and didn’t see a problem at all. And even though I told myself this entire time I didn’t want anything too big (anything above 4 inches), when I saw the sketch I fell in love. I almost cried, because it was the exact thing I had in my mind. I was asked if the size was okay, several times. I said that it was, because I didn’t want to sacrifice the design that I really loved a lot. It was too beautiful to make smaller. And so into the chair I went, the stencil was on, and my tattoo began.

The entire time, I was concentrating really hard on not moving. It was probably the hardest part of getting the tattoo, the sitting there while something pricked my skin. It didn’t even hurt that much, it was just difficult to resist pulling my arm away, or even twitching my fingers. When it was over and done, and I’d paid my money, I was high-fiving myself for having been pretty stoic during a situation I was pretty sure would have me crying. I was of course worried that I’d miss something in the care instructions and end up with an infection, but otherwise I was totally fine and flying high. I loved my new tatt, I couldn’t believe I’d actually went and done it, and I was getting positive feedback from my friends.

Then I woke up the next morning. And hated myself. Remember when I mentioned that neurosis? Well here it was- my chronic buyer’s remorse. I have severe issues with regretting things after I’ve done them- especially if they are major and life altering. This is why I don’t date, this is why I stopped having sex, this is why I haven’t left my job- because once I make a decision and go through with it, I immediately wish I hadn’t. I figured I was cured of this, considering it took me YEARS to even decide on getting a tattoo in the first place. And then I figured I was fine when I actually allowed myself to get tattooed. Then I figured I was fine when I smiled at it for 4 hours that night until going to bed.  Even in the morning, when I woke up with the old nagging feeling I spoke to a few friends and they assured me what I was feeling was totally normal. I just put something new and permanent on my person- it was going to take some time to adjust. I would be fine.  But the feelings kept nagging me all day. And now on Sunday, two days later, I am crying while typing this. Because I can’t undo what I have done. Now I have no choice but to force myself to deal with my decision, because I don’t have $4000 to have it removed (and the results aren’t even guaranteed). It’s too big, the place is too obvious, and it’s too bright: those are the thoughts running through my mind.

I really do love tattoo art. I think some of the sexiest things on a person are their tattoos. I go absolutely crazy over men and women who have them. I think the process is awesome. I think people who have them are bad ass. But I do not have a tattoo personality. I knew this, and I convinced myself that because it’s something I truly believed I wanted, that I was being ridiculous and attempting to talk myself out of it out of fear. But although I will say crazy things, although I believe that you should be a rebel if that’s who you are, I am a pretty subtle person when it comes to how I dress and the appearance I give off. Tattoos are NOT subtle. Large tattoos are even less so. And here I am with this huge bright thing on my arm. I have no one to blame but myself. And I won’t be getting another one, because I’m pretty positive I will feel shitty about it like I do now.

Sigh. That’s what I will end this blog with…a long drawn out sigh.

How many degrees does it take…

As many of you know, I went on my first interview in 5 years today. And I’m sure you’re all waiting with bated breath to hear how it went. So, in a nutshell: it wasn’t the most horrible experience I’ve ever had. I felt rusty and a bit out of sorts, but the Human Resource Manager was a really nice woman and did want to put me at ease…by asking me to talk about myself. I’m pretty confident I can perform well at this financial firm, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t intimidated just a bit. Okay, maybe more than just a bit. And I’ll tell you why…it had nothing to do with the interview, and everything to do with the building in which the company resides…

The only thing not automated was the Security Guard. If he had been a robot, I’d have walked out. Anyway, he took my photo with his trusty desk security camera and told me which elevator bank to use. I went through the motion detecting turnstiles, and walked over to a wall of elevators. Each elevator had a key pad in front of it, and I panicked. Did I need a code to go upstairs? I was a guest, I didn’t have a code, and that child like security guard didn’t mention one. Was it on my temporary building pass?? At this point, an elevator door slide open to my left and I smoothly stepped inside, thankful that no one witnessed my hesitation. As if I’ve never seen an elevator before…

There were no buttons inside the elevator. Well, that’s not true. There was an emergency stop button. An open and close option, and a display window. But no way to press a floor. Here is where panic set in again and I stepped out before the doors could trap me inside. Luckily for me, across the hall someone else was punching something into those nifty keypads. I realized it was a floor. Awesome. Mystery Solved. I turned to my own keypad and typed in 18…or what I thought was 18. Due to pressing the button for a fraction of a millisecond too long, the display kept showing 11. After my fourth attempt, I finally got the display to say 18 and expectantly waited for the elevator in front of me to open. It did not. I looked at the display again, and it was flashing a letter: “J”. It was then I looked up, and noticed that each elevator had an assigned letter, and clearly I was to go wait in front of that specific elevator. Fancy shit. So finally, I was on my way to greet my potential future employer.

I wont bore you with the details of the interview, but I will say that the HR Manager was thoughtful enough to show me how to ask the artificial intelligence masking as an elevator to get me back to the ground floor. All I had to do was press the asterisk key. And I rode right back down in “J”. So simple…

Carry on, Carry on…

Over the past 9 months,  I’ve been in contact with a number of “professional placement” agencies in an attempt to find a new job. As a lot of you know, my endeavor has been unsuccessful. I’ve heard a lot of reasons (excuses) for the lack of employment opportunities: “Oh, the market is only supporting temp to perm positions, so its not likely you’ll get anything for direct hire right now. Maybe once the market gets better”, or my favorite, “Well unless you’re willing to stay in Reception, there isn’t much out there.” I’ve also heard that my salary requests are a bit over the top “Oh, well you only make about $31,000 the most we can get you is $35,000. Is that okay?” Of course it wasn’t okay, nor was keeping me as a receptionist after strictly expressing “NO MORE RECEPTION WORK”. I was finally starting to believe my only options were to save up some cash, quit my current job, and take my chances with the temp world. But then something strange happened…

About two weeks ago, my favorite frenemy of a coworker asked me if I would e-mail him my resume. I of course asked him a series of questions like a total detective boss regarding why he needed said resume. He finally explained it was because the recruiter he worked with needed someone in the Admin Assistant field, and he knew I wanted to get out of there as badly as he did, so he dropped by name. I was still suspicious due to his untrustworthy shady ways, but I allowed him to forward my resume to this mystery recruiter….that same day I received an e-mail from her assistant, a meeting was set up, I attended said meeting and now two weeks later I have a formal interview set up for an Admin position with double my current pay rate.

I’m pretty nervous about this interview, as I haven’t been on a real one in about 5 years. But I was assured that the HR Supervisor was really nice, and was told being nervous was silly due to my years of experience and the depth of my credentials. Obviously, I have this in the bag. But despite the nerves, I am excited. I’m excited that finally after all this time, I’m actually going to be seen by a real person for a job that may be an answer to a lot of my current financial/personal woes. This is the moment I’ve been praying for, and I know I’ll totally kill it, because that’s just who I am (please insert my arrogant theme music).

I also would like to state for the record, that I don’t at all feel guilty about what potentially may happen. I’ve discussed my dissatisfaction with my supervisors, I told them a year ago I was looking for a way out, and its clear they didn’t take me seriously. I’ll be more than happy to pack up my belongings, and skedaddle. I’ve been stuck for too long, and it’s about time I carry on. Wish me luck everyone!

*”Let your past be the sound, of your feet upon the ground, carry on…”*

Strip Club Ettiquette

For those of you who didn’t know, my Sister started her own blog! I am so proud of her, and I want to share her awesomeness with you.

mochaliciousmess's Blog

Don’t you just hate when you’re out for a night of fun with your crew and your fun is endangered because not everyone is on the same page as to what constitutes proper club etiquette? Yes, there is proper club etiquette, surprisingly enough there is proper strip club etiquette. Come on people we live in a society. When have you gone anywhere that there wasn’t some collection of rules?  You haven’t.  Can you imagine the kinds of incidents that could happen in an establishment where you have alcohol, almost nekkid women, a lot of men, and no rules?  Yeah, you need some kind of guidelines when any kind of adult fun is involved because people are schtoopid!

So, this is your list as to how to comport yourself at a strip club. Whether you’re a guy, girl, ambivalent, flying solo or rolling with your crew this is a must read.

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