Wicked Shtick

A Shtick In Time

I'm not going to be posting as much until I have made real headway with the book. I'll try to post once a week or so until then, detailing my progress.

I'm working as fast as I can.

Funny Shtick

Courtesy of Ms. Baker:

Me in my new position as hobo.

Unemployed Shtick: Part Four

I’m still out trudging for a new job. Nothing yet but I am hopeful something will come along. Plus, with all of my free time, I’ve decided to roast a chicken. It’s really not that hard. You just throw some lemon and garlic up the bird’s ass and baste every 20 minutes. Cake. I would pick up a roasted chicken now and then when I lived near a Safeway back in Cali; they’re great for late night grazing. But, now I live in downtown Seattle and there are no grocery stores. I have to order my groceries from Safeway.com and they don’t sell roasted chickens online. It might be because the thing would have to sit in a van all day and, if eaten, would give me an explosive case of food poisoning. I’ve had food poisoning before, and if it’s at all possible, I want to avoid ever getting it again.

I’ve also become extremely interested in DJ’ing. I love the idea of controlling a party’s rhythm and mood. I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday and picked up a book on getting started and I’ve been checking out used equipment online. The book I got cracks me up because the guys that wrote it are English and every so often I’ll come across words like bits and it makes me smile. It’s nice when an instructional book has some personality.

We’ll see. I’m doing more writing now that I’m unemployed (which is a big reason why my posts are shorter and it takes me longer to get them up), but it would be nice to have a hobby that gets me out of the house. Writing is my passion but, unfortunately, my passion is more of a solo activity. I have been looking into taking some writing classes but I might be moving to Palm Springs for a bit, and that would be one hell of a commute.

… HOLD THE PHONE, this guy just blew up on Grey’s Anatomy. Gotta go. More to come ....

Unemployed Shtick: Day Three

Man, the days go by slow when you have nowhere to be. My dad called me today, and right after he asked me if I was at home, he started laughing hysterically, as if to suggest he knew the answer to his question before he spoke and only said what he said for his own amusement. Now I know where I get it from; this mocking, sarcastic, mean-spirited nature of mine. Apparently, it’s a dominant gene passed on through the Y chromosome.

I saw the new Martin Scorsese movie yesterday, The Departed. It was really very good. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen old Jack Nicholas in a flick and I was reminded why I like his movies so much. He’s freakin’ insane. I can only imagine that at family gatherings he’s the one sitting in a dark corner with a big glass of bourbon and a Rubik’s Cube, talking to himself as he removes the stickers and places them on the correct color side, and then brags when he’s completed the task.

Today I saw the movie The Black Dahlia. In a word, it was awful. Horrible. Repugnant. Miserable. I could go on but I’m heating up a bowl of chilimac and I’m planning to eat it with Pringles and wash it down with 3 dollar champagne. You gotta love being broke.

Unemployed Shtick: Day Two

This guy just called my cell phone wanting his carpets cleaned, and being as bored as a person can ever possibly be, I was tempted to take the order. I really need to get a job soon or I’m calling him back with a quote for buffing his floors.

I’ve just downloaded a bunch of gym music. I’m going everyday now because I want to dispel the myth that unemployed people are lazy and fat; I’m alright with just being lazy. So, if you haven’t yet, check out Citizen Cope (Sideways and Brother Lee are good ones), and Felix da Housecat (Ready 2 Wear). Both are v. good and can be found on iTunes.

Oh, and about my Scottish bartender, cute as he is, when we were hanging yesterday he had some food made, and as we talked he ate (which, in and of itself is no big deal), but the way he ate was like that of an inmate, working through his grub as fast as possible to discourage Big John from coming over and shanking him with a shiv for his dessert. He also held his fork with his entire fist, pointed inwards at all times. I can only guess that not having to switch hands (or chew), shaved valuable minutes from his best time. At one point I thought he was going to choke on some shrimp but it turned out he was just taking in a big breath.

Oh well. He was also wearing a trucker hat, which looked cute on him, but is as passé as flared jeans, or anything Von Dutch.

Shtick In The Mud: Part Deux?

Could be tres but I'm too déprimé to care.

I have only just realized how much I look like a loser sitting in a bar/restaurant with a pad and pen. I stopped into my favorite joint after crusin’ around all day (it’s practically connected to the alleyway of my apartment complex), and I decided to have a drink and some convo with the bartender (with whom I’ve had many a flirt); I went to the bathroom, and when I returned, there was an Elvis Costello lookin’ MF, and a wimpy, been-picked-on-so-long-his-mummy-wouldn’t-stick-up-for-him dweeb sitting on either side of my stool.

In a flash I decided to never hang in a bar type setting with a pad and pen ever again.

I must’ve looked like a discount Christian Amanpour, but with a better ass and a much smaller paycheck.

Daily Shtick

I know after reading my hilarious but poignant posts you wonder, "Is she really like this in real life?"

Well, I'm here to post the latest exchange between me and my buddy, we'll call him Steve. Steve and I haven't seen or spoken to one another in awhile and we're trying to get together for a drink.

Me:      I've been trying to shake a stubborn cold for weeks myself.

I'm closing in on my last day of work (tomorrow). Big drama behind that but we should grab a drink (I've got the time:) and I'll fill you in.

Him:     This one has been a pain in the butt...that's for sure. I still cannot seem to shake it. Last day of work huh? Did you get yourself in trouble? I'd like to hear what's going on. My schedule is pretty nuts though for the next week. I've got my house on the market and I have got to put a wall up to block off a bedroom. So that is going to eat up my next few days. Are you driving yet? Can you make it to the Eastside?

Me:      Nope, still a ped:)

Where are you moving? YOU'RE putting up a wall? That sounds very ambitious to me. Can't you just put up some plastic wrap or aluminum foil and say it's art?

I didn't get in trouble but I'm one pissed off girl. I was told I had a new position and then it fell (or is in the process of falling) through, and I'm SOL.

Hey, unless things change drastically in the next couple of weeks I'm gonna be free.

I can finally realize my dream of being that guy at the end of the bar drowning in whiskey. I just wish I could grow a five o'clock shadow.

Him:     I'm moving to Jackson Hole Wyoming for a couple of years. I am going to realize my dream of being a snowboard bum. Then after that I'm going to get my masters. I realized that working sucks so I might as well cut and run. I wish I could put up some tin foil that would be so much easier...but unfortunately these buyers in Redmond are idiots. One of these nights though we do have to have a drink. I'll wallow with you over whiskey and I will have the 5'oclock shadow.

Me:      Wow! Jealous. I'm just going to be a bum of the normal variety.

Working does suck. But not having money sucks worse; I think. I'm on the fence but I'll soon have the answer to that dilemma.

Let me know when you've erected your wall and have a fully functioning five o'clock shadow.

Him:     I will be a bum if my house sells...otherwise I will be a part time bum. I am hoping to avoid that at all costs. Were you taking a job outside of colliers? Have any prospects for a new job yet? I may just have a full time 5'oclock shadow soon and we can cry about not having any money at the same time. Cross your fingers that I unload the house...and I'll cross mine that you don't end up eating government cheese.

Me:      Hey, there's no shame in accepting a little government-subsidized assistance. Especially if the aforementioned assistance hooks me up with a wheel of Washington's finest.

I was offered a job (through my headhunter) as an Account Executive for the Walt Disney Internet Group, but somehow, someway, it fell through – it fell through after I gave notice and the position was filled. SCREWED!

Now I’m f’ing pounding the pavement frantically trying to get wind of a job prospect that is even remotely suitable.

K. Give me a shout out when you’re ready to hang, and bring some crackers!

Him:     You're cracking me up. Good luck with the hunt. Hopefully I will have my wall up quick. We'll have a drink sooner or later. It's been awhile.

   

   

Getting Even With Shtick

I hate it when people organize parties in my honor. It’s not the fact that a friend wants to do something kind that bothers me; it’s anticipating the turnout that gives me diarrhea.

A friend from work has decided that she wants to have a lunch for me (at a Mexican restaurant), and has sent out a blast email inviting the entire office (roughly 80 people). This is great and all, but only about 15 people have accepted and I was hoping at least 25 or so would attend. I’m gonna have nightmares about conversation lulls, abrupt exoduses and a lone party hat.

This does remind me of the time my dad and brother spent an entire week building a carnival in our backyard for my 5^th birthday party. My mom made me invite the entire kindergarten class (though there were a few kids I didn’t want coming and I made that crystal clear).

I believe we had an excellent turnout. Presents filled the family room and lines mingled with one another as children waited at different booths. We had the fishing game: my dad waited for a kid to cast a line over the partition, and when they did, he baited a small prize, tugged on the string, and sent the toy back over the wall to the eager youngster. We had a beanbag toss and a few others that I can’t exactly recall. It was so long ago.

I do remember being the biggest brat in munchkin land. I tried to cut in lines, saying things like, “Birthday Girl first.” I can’t remember if it was my mom or my dad, but one of them took me to the back of the line and made me wait my turn. This did not impress me. After all I was the guest of honor and shouldn’t the guest of honor be allowed to push people and be snotty if they want? I was such a little tyrant. I think I even gave the clown the stink eye. If I didn’t I, at the very least, pushed my way to the front and made it very clear to him that he was, in fact, not funny. I believe I also stacked my presents neatly, arranging them by putting the gifts from the people I liked more in the front of the pile. I probably even chucked the ones from people I thought sucked. I was a little bastard.

I’m inclined to believe that if there is a low turnout for my lunch tomorrow, it’s because of that birthday party and my behavior throughout. It’s karma, karma for being the incarnation of pure evil on a bad day. Evil with road rage. Evil on steroids. Evil at the DMV.

Just look in those eyes and you will see what I’m talking about. Chilling.

Dangerous Shtick: Confessions Of A Fast Becoming Unemployed Girl

I love brussel sprouts. That’s one of my dirty little secrets. I love them with red wine vinegar and a little butter; I love them leftover, reheated or cold right out of the fridge; I love them with a little cheese sauce or even with just a dash of salt and pepper. Really, I’ll take ‘em any way you want to serve ‘em up.

On my way to happy hour yesterday I made my friend Eve from work stop off with me so that I could buy a batch. She’s still shocked and appalled that I not only eat brussel sprouts, but also seek them out as my food of choice. I can’t help it. My dad loves them and we had them for dinner often growing up.

What's not to love? Brussels sprouts have many beneficial phytochemicals, have anti-cancer effects and are a good source of folate, vitamin C and iron. THE PERFECT FOOD.

I love brussel sprouts almost as much as I love gross, sloppy, greasy food. I crave them and even make my entire meal from them when the mood strikes. LOVE ‘EM!

But, don’t you worry; I paired my brussel sprouts with some chicken andouille sausage and a cucumber salad last night. I don’t usually cook for myself (too much work for one person), but every once in a while I get a wild hair.

Sidenote: A lot of people viewed my website yesterday, for all I know it could’ve been my mom, but still impressive. I haven’t had time, of late, to promote this thing so the number of people that drop by has stayed relatively consistent. I haven’t the foggiest idea as to why yesterday was so special but hopefully it happens again today. So far, it ain’t looking like it will.

I’m gonna go call my mom.

Update* I just found out that brussel sprouts are “goitrogens”  and when eaten in very large amounts, they can cause goitre. HOLY MOLY. That is definitely not something I want sprouting up.

It’s Never Too Late To Teach An Old Dog New Shtick

I was just thinking about the time my friend Amanda and her then boyfriend came over to my place when I lived in Hermosa Beach to attend the Lobster Festival. Technically, the festival is held in Redondo Beach, but honestly it’s all the same thing: beautiful beaches and million dollar homes that sit way too close to one another.

We had a lovely afternoon of drinking and eating – there really is nothing I enjoy doing more. We saw a magic show; entered to win a pimped out Range Rover (never did), and perused the great arts and crafts tables set up along the perimeter.

On our way back from the festival we saw that there was a special showing of The Wizard of Oz on the beach, and in my voice that is no less than twelve decibels higher than my normal speaking voice, my eyes swelling with tears of joy, I proclaimed that we simply had to go see it.

We were like little worker ants: Amanda and Dave ran to get the wine and stop by my apartment for a few blankets for us to sit on and I jumped in line at the pizza parlor to grab us a large pie. We met back at the movie and proceeded to get settled for the show.

Having already consumed our fair share of booze the last thing we needed in front of us was a few bottles of wine -- unfortunately the original purpose of the pizza (to soak up some of the excess alcohol) was quickly forgotten and became my reason for migrating through the crowd, stumbling over people: I was attempting to share.

To our delight there was an MC for the event and he wanted to know where people in the audience originated. “Gilroy!” I shouted. “Ah, yes. Gilroy. The Garlic Capital of the world,” he said. This pleased me immensely and when he asked for someone else to answer I quickly chimed in, again, with “Gilroy.” He tried to ignore me, he really did, but there is nothing I enjoy more than heckling when I’m drunk. Poor guy never had a chance.

The movie was a blur of lions and tigers and bears. I vaguely remember seeing those freaky ass flying monkeys and the hair on the back of my neck standing on end when the Wicked Witch of the West cackled, that bitch is scary. But mostly, I remember the wine.

After the picture ended Amanda and I decided that we wanted to jump in the ocean. The only flaw in this plan was that we were fully clothed, and the water, combined with wet and dry sand, made our clothes heavy and impossible to run in (our sole purpose in life at that time). I don’t think you need a crystal ball to guess what happened next: we ditched the clothes.

Poor Dave stood on the sidelines, holding our wet, sandy clothes, as his then girlfriend and her friend run laughing and screaming through the water in their underwear. We thought it was hilarious; Dave was a good sport.

He handed us the blankets we used to shield our asses from the cold sand during the movie, and Amanda and I, wrapped like burritos, walked back across the pier to my apartment.

I miss nights like those.