Fuel Fairies

The other day I filled up my gas tank...paid the gas dude and went about my daily business.

Then the next day I did some driving, went home and yadda yadda.

The next day - I was all...driving around..when I was like..what the heck, yo. Car, I filled you up DAYS ago - and you're still at full. Are you MAGICAL!?

Thinking I had hit the motherload with a magical car I got all cocky and was about to start creating a song about how awesome I am in my magical car...Then suddenly - to my dismay, my gas tank was like...HA! GOTCHA! SUCKA! YOU TOTALLY FELL FOR THAT! HAHA! YOU LOSE! and the needle dropped.

Boo.

But the next time I got into my car? Totally more full than it had been before.

And after that - it would play a little game and alternate. Sometimes it would be full, sometimes it would have dropped a little - but it never got THAT low...

So I was all...what. the. heck?

And OF COURSE - the only logical conclusion to come to was that I had one of the mysterious, rarely seen but always sought after fuel fairies.

I know. Be jealous.

Knowing that the fuel fairy had found me in this time of need...when gas prices are stupid high and annoying...and knowing that I am full-o-awesome...well..you can imagine that I was pretty excited about my fuel tank being randomly filled up by magical little fairy-elf things.

But then - to my dismay...my car turned on..and the gas tank was all...DANGER WILL ROBINSON - DANGER!

And my fuel fairy was gone.

The orange light telling me I had no fuel was back.

And my bank account took a blow it never saw coming.

If I didn't know any better...I'd say my crap-a-licious car had decided that breaking itself more would be fun...good thing I'm in the know that stupid fuel fairies are notorious for getting peoples hopes up and leaving them on empty.

Jerks.

Artsy Fartsy

I'm really not artsy.

I can appreciate a good painting, photograph or other artistic endeavor. I enjoy going to musicals and plays and the like. I like reading good books, this is true.

But I am not artsy in the artsy way.

You know the way I'm talking about.

The way where everything has this deep rooted symbolism behind it...or it's just something that doesn't really seem to make much sense..but yet certain people go absolutely CRAZY over it.

Anywho - I went to this artsy preformance with a friend a little while ago. A friend whose parents had given us the tickets. Free tickets? Free anything? Sign. Me Up. Because...well...why not?

So we went..and were interested to see what it was all about. The first dance act was interesting and rather beautiful - I saw the symbolism which I can only guess was on a fairly rudimentary level. Plus, the dancing was beautiful and it was nice.

And then there was the second act.

Which was so artsy, my mind couldn't wrap itself around it...and my senses were screaming for it to stop.

I'm sorry...and excuse my ignorance...but WHAT exactly is the symbolism of two men holding hands and moving their other hands around as if they're windmills? To an old man with a raspy, awful smokers voice...singing the exact same 6 words over and over again...the entire time. Ten minutes later (or maybe it just felt like it was ten minutes?), they finally stopped windmilling..and continued doing some other random moves. Like rolling around. And bunching themselves into balls and lying there. And then there was MORE WINDMILLING. Over and over and over again. To the Exact. Same. Six. Words.

And I just really didn't get it. And maybe it's because I couldn't move myself beyond the "music"...but holy cannoli...what the HECK was it?

And then - it ended. I breathed a sigh of relief.

And all around me...people were applauding, and cheering...and WHISTLING. And the dancers just took it in, bowed and smiled as if to say...'I know, isn't it just the greatest thing that you've ever seen?'

And the people around us ate it up...while we looked at each other in disbelief wondering what parallel universe we had transported ourself to.

The entire place was filled with a buzz about how ah-ma-zing the last dance was and how they just couldn't believe it...and I sat there going...oh..my god. What's wrong with me? Why don't I get it? I had the distinct feeling that if I got up on the stage and started waving my arms around like a windmil I would be immeadiate boo'd off and ushered out of the building...so what was I missing that these two guys had done that I just didn't GET?

So now I'm stuck with this quandry...where I feel a little bit stupid for admitting that I didn't *get* it like all of these other people did...and I'm left wondering what exactly the other people GOT.

After the show...I was waiting around for a few minutes..and couldn't help but hear people chitter chatter about it. They all seemed to be of the same persuasion..that it was amazing, great, wonderful, striking, etc. etc. etc. But no one said one specific thing about HOW it was amazing or what EXACTLY was amazing...just that it WAS. Well, except for a little girl who while walking by said "and then they hugged - that was pretty funny.." That was the closest I got to understanding the preformance...despite listening in on a whole lotta conversations. No one ever pinpointed what was great or how it was great...just used a bunch of abstract terms smushed together to convey that it was somehow amazing..in a general sense. And the general consensus was that the other two dances (the ones I really enjoyed) were nice, they were okay...but were too simplistic...and didn't TOUCH them like the second one had...yet again...being very vague about what exactly was so touching and wonderful. The whole thing kinda bugged me and got a little under my skin, because i just wanted to know WHAT was so GREAT about the second preforamnce. In case you weren't aware...I'm a REALLY SUPER CURIOUS PERSON.

This all led me to wonder how many people ACTUALLY got what the coreographer was REALLY trying to convey..and wondering just how many were simply playing along...and how many were just as "what WAS that?" in the dark as I was.

It's funny because so often I wonder if people are just putting on this big act - and the other night was such a classic example.

As we left..my friend commented on how that was a very 'artsy' event for a very distinct crowd...and I couldn't help but agree and continue to wonder...was it me? Am I just shallow and unable to see the deeper meaning behind this supposedly beautiful work of art? Why don't I see what this artsy crowd sees? Am I shallow or dumb? What was it?

...Or was some coreographer dude laughing away in his penthouse suite in absolute disbelief that people continue to pay a relatively large amount of GOOD money to see this dance that really was inspired by a drug induced haze?

I'm apt to believe the later.

But that's just me..and as I said before...I'm not artsy.

At least not in that...erm...artsy...way.

Please Stop Taunting Me

Dear American TV;

Sometimes I watch you, when you're playing a show that is something that I think will be amusing, educational or otherwise mind-numbing after a long day. It seems like when I'm at my cousins house, I watch you more than I watch your Canadian counterparts and I'm not quite sure why this is because sometimes, you're kind of a rather big jerk.

I have to admit it - I have some beef with you.

For REAL.

Turns out I'm a little bit upset with you..because...well..

YOU'RE MAKING ME HUNGRY.

And hungry with cravings for things that I cannot have.

Why ya gotta be like that? Seriously - That's not so nice. Not so nice at all.

Every time I turn around there are commercials for restaurants that we've never had in Canada, or that no longer exist in Canada...and the excessive taunting is becoming a little over the top. When you continuously show me commercials for things like Olive Garden, I start to get a little bit annoyed...and after annoyed comes down right angry. Like fist shaking angry. And you don't want me to get fist shaking angry.

You see, I haven't been to an Olive Garden in probably 20 years...and basically forgot about their existence for a LONG time. I think that the closest one to here closed down when I was six or something crazy like that..

But now everytime I turn the tv on, and you're there...and it's all...WHA-BAHM - IN YOUR FACE! OLIVE GARDEN DELICIOUSNESS! WOOOOOOOOOT!

And my tummy is all..mmm...that looks soooooooooooo yummah.

And now, all I want, EVER, beacuse of YOU...is Olive Garden. And I have no idea whether it's actually decent or any good...because I haven't had it in six katrillion years. ACTUALLY. And who remembers whether or not something was good six katrillion years ago. Not me, that's for sure.

Now you have left my cousin and I in quite the situation. We're continuously talking about how we need to drive over the border and find ourself an Olive Garden to fulfill the craving, or at least verify whether or not it's any good. We kind of hope that it's not..so that we can come back to Canadialand and never crave it again. Just so we don't feel the need to roadtrip to the States everytime we see one of those stupid commercials because we're slaves to advertisments and giant conglomerations. That would probably become super expensive, not to mention super-duper time consuming...and generally not such a good life plan.

So long story short - I'm pretty mad at you and I don't know if our affair of mind numbing television can continue if you and your advertising continue to get the best of me.

You should probably stop being such a jerk, so that we can be friends again. There are three options I can think of so that I act can go back to watching random shows on your stations (each with their own ridiculous forms of entertainment education). You either need to build an Olive Garden nearby, deliver Olive Garden directly to my door OR stop showing mouth watering commercials 24/7

If you could get all over that, I'd really appreciate it.

Love, Erin

"Someone"

You know "someone" is way too use to being the driver when:

"Someone" is at some sort of an event which requires that ve-hic-le transportation.

Probably because "someone" lives in the middle of nowhere.

This may or may not be an artsy fartsy sort of event that "someone" was attending.

(I don't know why I felt it was impertinent to this story to include what event "someone" may have been at...since where "someone" was has absolutely nothing to do with anything to do with this particular story.)

ANYWHO.

So this "someone"...was waiting around in the lobby for the friend she was with to return from the washroom. While she was waiting she did what any car driver does as they're about to leave a place and head back to their car...she got out her keys, made sure she knew where they were and put them in her coat pocket for easy access once she arrived in the general vicinity of her car. This was done to ensure that jumping in the car and getting out of the cold could be done as soon as possible.

Because nobody likes to wait around while the driver searches for their keys, especially in Canada, in the WINTER. Duh.

As the evening wound down, "someone" and her friend said their goodbyes and then left this artsy-fartsy event...walking back to the car so that they could return home.

As they walked into the car park.... "someone" pulled out her keys and clicked the 'unlock' button and watched as the headlights flashed and the car unlocked.

Then "someone" stood there staring with her mouth agape at the car...wondering how the heck she'd opened up someone ELSES car.

Then "someone" wondered where HER car was and why it wasn't unlocking.

Then "someone" started looking around the parking lot like a fool...and it was only then that "someone" remembered that she hadn't driven to said event and was merely a passenger standing in a parking lot wildly flailing about, clicking her remote unlock car thingy while "someones" friend looked on with mild curiosity, a hint of amusement and a slight nuance of worry.









PS - I don't want to give it away or anything...but I MIGHT be one of the two people talked about in this story...and I'll leave you with that...you can decide whether or not you think I'm the idiot or the person watching the idiot...the call is all yours.

Bites of Heaven

One of my Swiss girls sent me an email today.

The one who co-incidentally was from the same small town that I am from. It's funny, because despite knowing multiple people in common and frequenting similar coffee shops/restaurants/farmers markets/stores/etc. we'd never met here, back home.

Instead, she was forwarded an email from me that I'd sent to a mutual acquaintance and already knew a great deal about my life in Switzerland before she'd even arrived or ever made contact with me. We were both shocked to find that we were from the same small town when we met in Zürich (and it wasn't until later that she realized I was the same girl whose emails she had read..ha!) because we co-incidentally both happened to stumble upon and work for the same, very small, aupair agency in a small suburb outside of the city.

ANYWHO.

She rambled on about what was new, how we needed to meet up and her plans for life for the next little while.

And then she started talking about things she missed, but mostly..she was talking about the Luxembergerli.


Jenn in front of the Confiserie Sprüngli at Stadelhofen



The delish luxembergerli in the flesh.


Oh how my tummy longs for them. We'd buy the worlds smallest quantities because A) We were super poor and they were super expensive... thus we couldn't afford any more than one or two on our salaries..ha. B) If you bought more than one or two you'd end up eating them all. In a matter of a very short period...and then you'd explode. And you'd probably think that it was still worth it...because yes, they are THAT good.

At this point, I just couldn't help myself. I turned into Pavlov's dog...and basically started salivating while reading her email. She talked about how she missed them so much and how she was so tempted to order some off of the internet once she had enough money. I had tried for so long not to think about them. I'd thought about the kids, the mountains, the cheese, the trains, the views, the chocolate, the music, the 200 dollar bills that made you feel rich...but I had refused to let myself think about the luxembergerli.

So what did I do?

Your darn right I went directly to the Sprüngli website and didn't pass go.

My heart did a double take as I remembered Swiss pricing. But then I remembered the sweet delicious taste of the luxembergerli. Their light, fluffy creamy inside..with their flaky yet not pastry-like outside. The way they melted on your tongue..and the flavours. Oh the flaaaaaavours. Raspberry, Chocolate, Vanilla, Champagne...Strawberry, Lemon, Stracciatella, Mocca, Lime - DOUBLE CHOCOLATE. The list goes on and on and on and then on some more. You walk into the Confiserie and all you see spread before you is a delicious feast of multi-coloured bites of heaven. The strawberry rhubarb though? Yeah - they take the cake..or in this case..the luxembergerli. Just the right amount of sweet, just the right amount of tart...and an extra dose of awesome..just in case.

I tried to recover from the fact that they wanted 45chf (basically par with the Canadian/American dollar) for the SMALL container of the little bites of heaven. PLUS SHIPPING. But all my mind could think about was how much I loved them. How much I missed them. How just one little bite would mean I could magically take myself back there for an instant - So I recovered from my near heart attack..and I had almost stopped caring how much they would cost. I went as far as to go to the order page and fill out information. I wanted NEEDED one. And since I couldn't order ONE...a box would HAVE to do.

Until I realized that they don't ship them outside of Switzerland.

Grrr.

Stupid Switzerland.

Stupid Sprüngli

Stupid little bites of amazingly delicious bites of heaven taunting me from across the ocean with their perishable nature.

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.




..And just because I hadn't made myself swisssick enough already today..



The view from the house I lived in. The sun setting over the Zürisee..

The Beatles Vs. Britney

Yesterday we packed up ourselves and headed two hours south into The Big City.

As in, Torana. Or for your NON Ontario natives...Toronto.

We headed down because my Mom and my aunt wanted to see a musical, and my cousin and I aren't REALLY working and bum around all day and thought we might as well thought we'd tag along.

My mom had wanted to see the musical 'Jersey Boys' for quite some time...as did my aunt...so last weekend we bought ourselves the last couple of cheapie tickets (which actually turned out to be really good seats! Horray for cheap entertainment!) that they had available and yesterday we headed down to see what there was to see.

Turns out...even though I had no idea WHAT the musical was about, had failed to google it before leaving and on the car ride there was like....I have no idea if I actually know any songs by the Four Seasons (I plead ignorance and youth, your honour)...I actually really really enjoyed myself. Turns out that they sang basically all of the classic oldies that you love that you have no idea who wrote them. Or that have been re-done by countless people so that you have no idea where the original even came from.

The dancing was hilarious, the set was fabulous and I had a lovely time.

Not nearly as lovely as my mother and aunt though...who I'm pretty sure re-lived their childhood watching American Bandstand every week during the 2.5 hours we were in there. They proceeded to giggle..and they danced in their seats and reminisced during the intermission about how they couldn't believe that they had essentially worshipped these singers 40-50 years before. I enjoyed the show, but I enjoyed how much THEY enjoyed it even more.

Sometimes I think that I was born in the wrong era for a lot of different re sons..but one of the biggest is music. I love oldie goldie music like that..The Beatles, Joni Mitchell, Buffalo Springfield - there are so many fantabulous musical artists that were way before my time and I'm eternally confused as to how music has changed SO much...and have always had a soft spot for the music of the 60's and 70's.

So I sat there thinking...how cute they were and how much they loved this reenactment of their childhood. Then I wondered to myself...in 30 years what would I take my kids to see..that was something from MY childhood?

The musical of Britney Spears? I think that'd probably have some pretty high PG ratings and probably not be okay for children.

Okay so what about The Backstreet Boys. Classic. Except that...well...yeah..they're the BACKSTREET BOYS. Who is going to make a musical out of THAT crap? Hopefully..no one.

Spice girls? Maybe? I mean - they have already made a movie and then gone back out on tour. It's a possibility. A scary possibility..but none the less...a possibility.

What from MY generation is going to stick out and be that thing that our kids look at and go - wow - so once upon a time THAT was cool...and my parents actually LIKED it? And despite themselves...they know all of the words too and sing along. Is there going to be anything? And if there is..am I going to be more ashamed than not of my generations contribution to the musical world?

Let's pray my parents generation has staying power..because I don't know if I have enough stomach power to handle sitting through a musical of any of the fabulous and famous popsters of today. Let alone admitting to my future hypothetical children what music we listened to...while I shudder in embarrassment..

Sometimes I wish that someone would just take me back to the place where I belong...

Peace, love and happiness..Dude.

White Yucky

If you've talked to me lately, read recent blog posts or been in tune with the vibes my body is giving off...you know that I'm getting a little fed up with winter.

And it has barely begun.

I know that we've got a good few more months of this to come..and that depresses me like whoa.

It was snowing again this morning. And if it were two or three months ago...I would have been all 'AW! IT'S FAIRY TALE SNOW! HOW CUTE! I LOVE IT! LOOK HOW PURTY IT IS!'

But now..I just grumble. And mumble. About how it's cold. And how I hate the freakin' snow because it's stupid and cold and wet and gross and yuck. Snow is totally yuck. Snow is just a big old pile of white yucky. Yeah, you heard me. White. Yucky.

Did I mention that I'm sick of it?

Driving when there is no traction..anywhere. Having to wade through it to get out the front door. Having to clean off my car that's covered in pounds of snow (..which of course by the time that I get out of the house to go anywhere means that it's either a) melting and not at all light and fluffy but rather heavy and even more wet or b) thick layers of ice which are permenently stuck to my mode of transportation.) Shivering despite being all bundled up...and you waking up in the middle of the night freezing because your 22nd blanket fell off and now you can't feel your toes anymore.

Ick. Ick. Ick. Ick. ICKY.

I've decided that in my next life I want to be a bear..and hibernate all winter long.

Or MAYBE...I'll become one of my cats and sleep cuddled up all day in that pile of clothes I was supposed to put away and never got around to.

Good plan? Good plan.

PS - Since it turns out that I don't ACTUALLY have magical powers (I know. Gasp. Sigh. Tear.) and I can't ACTUALLY turn into a bear/cat/other animal that likes to sleep lots....anyone wanna bundle up like whoa and go sledding tomorrow?

...If you can't beat them..join them? Or something stupid like that.

'Scuse Me?

The other day I was frantically running around town not at all attempting to start and finish my christmas shopping in one day doing some last minute christmas shopping.

I was at a loss...I didn't know what to get for anyone. As I get older, the more I realize that we all have way too much junk and that finding things that people want, need and don't already have..is a little bit of a challenge.

That being said...I still wanted to get my family some decent gifts for christmas.

While I perused random stores, surrounded by other morons who'd all left their shopping 'till the last minute too masses of other frazzled consumers I found myself in a dizzying haze of large conglomerations. Do I get this, or that or what could I possibly get for this person or that person.

Suddenly I wondered if perhaps I could pick up a season of a show that I know my Dad loved. Being the complete and total Daddys girl that I am, my little girl self would convince him to let me stay up late and watch it with him...always falling asleep halfway through, because it was way past my bedtime and I was doing my favourite thing; cuddling with my daddio.

So, I thought...what a fun thing I could get him. I looked at one store. Sold out. Another...sold out. Another...none.

I walked into a fourth store with little hope in my heart and already trying to think of other possible gifts he might enjoy.

I walked into the 'tv series' sections and glanced around. Nothing. Of course.

But I thought that I'd ask someone...you know...just in case that leaving my shopping until the last second hadn't TOTALLY screwed me over. .

After a few minutes of searching, I found a couple of youngins who (thanks to the nice coloured coded vest) appeared to be employees at the store. After finally gaining their attention away from each other and their oh so 'deep' conversation and directed towards the slightly irritated, slight frustrated consumer with money to burn standing infront of them I finally got a chance to speak with someone.

So, I asked if by chance they had any of the series or box sets in stock.

The boy looked at me with slight confusion, repeated the name of the series with a questioning in his voice, SCRATCHED HIS HEAD and was like..uhh...we might have it. I think that I've heard of it before....before he took off to go and check the shelf that I'd already carefully examined while I stood there with a gaping mouth wondering if I'd heard him correctly.

He THINKS that he'd heard of it before? Okay. I know that it's not a recent show. I know that it's even TECHNICALLY before MY time. And by the time I rolled around...it was already in syndication.

But WAY TO MAKE ME FEEL OLD BUDDY.

Completely and totally epic series that spanned through the 70's and 80's and and STILL PLAYS RERUNS on various stations on a regular basis. Had over 100 million viewers watch the series finale...and this kid thinks he 'may have' heard of it?!

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!?!?!

I mean..who hasn't definitely been able to say with SOME certainty that they've at least HEARD of M*A*S*H.

I must be getting old...

Pickle Problems

The other day I had a slight freak-out.

In hindsight, it was...nothing. In the grand scheme of things....it is nothing.

But, at the time..it seemed like the worlds biggest problem that has ever existed in the history of problems throughout the world.

What was my problem you may ask?

I couldn't get the pickle jar open. Yeah, I know, D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R.

I tried tapping the lid on the counter, running it under hot water, cold water, using all of my mighty strength, and using towels and jar opening devices to attempt to open it.

Despite all of my attempts...I couldn't.

It just wouldn't BUDGE.

And it was so annoying. So annoying that I spent hours dreaming about pickles and how much I love them and how I just wanted the stupid jar to be open. I think that my desire for a pickle got WORSE just because I couldn't have one.

You know when you get a craving for something...and nothing else will do? That's what happened..and all I wanted was a stupid pickle...and could I open the jar? Of course not.

Frustration mounted...until finally..my brother came in the house and I begged him to open said particularily tricky pickle jar...not even caring when he himself (basically the strongest person I KNOW) struggled and then finally opened it, spilling pickle juice all over him.

My selfish self didn't care....because as he wiped pickle juice off of himself and the dog eagerly did his part to help clean up...my craving was more than satisfied and I was SO happy to have had a pickle. I was basically the happiest person on the face of the earth.

When I realized...just how silly I am. Did I seriously just spend so much time agonizing over PICKLES?! Especially when it's a food that really..I shouldn't even like.

I mean...I DESPISE cucumbers.

I REALLY hate them. More than most foods in the entire world.

Like, REALLY REALLY hate them.

I can taste if they've been removed from a sandwich. I can smell them from another room. If I injest a small bite of one..I get a horrific headache. Basically, I think that they're one of the most foul, disgusting foods on the face of the earth..and don't understand how anyone could ever eat them. Let alone eat them because they ENJOY them. Eck.

But pickles on the other hand? I WILL fight you for a pickle.

Okay..maybe not fight.

But I may stick out my bottom lip, put on my best puppy dog eyes and look longingly at the pickle in question until you slowly back away from it.

Rule Rebellion

Sometimes, I really hate rules.

Okay, that's a lie.

I like rules. I like them when they make sense. When they're there for a reason. When they are useful and purposeful and helpful. And I'm not even really talking about RULES...like things that you'd get in trouble for, but just general things that society deems appropriate. Some of them are just plain stupid in my humble opinion. Seriously!

Take for instance looking each way before you cross the street. That's a super helpful rule. Means your sorry butt doesn't get run over by a car, truck and/or some other sort of vehicle which is WAY bigger than you. Yep, that's definitely one that makes sense.

Or turning off the oven before you leave the house. Don't want your pretty little house to burn down do you? So, you make sure your stove is turned off...simple as that. Perfectly logical, there's sense to the rule...and if you don't follow the rule..well..that could be bad. Real bad. Follow this rule people, it's a good one.

Or, for a final example (of really, many of our societal rules)...Always brush your teeth. It's not NECESSARY that you do this..but if you don't...you end up with mega bad breathe, cavities and who knows what else down the road. Makes sense to brush your teeth, it's a pretty smart rule. I personally like being able to chew my food.

Don't get me wrong...there are lots of good 'rules' in life...but there is also a giant pile of them that I can't quite figure out.

Like why do we need to have an objective when we're writing a Resume? I'm pretty sure that the person doing the hiring KNOWS that I want a job. Pretty sure that's WHY I'm handing them a resume and asking them if there are any openings...and if they can't figure that out..then I'm pretty sure that *I* should be doing THEIR job instead of asking them for one.

Or why must our Resumes only be X amount of WHATEVER long? What if we're so important that people SHOULD know more about how awesome we are? Not saying that I am or anything..I just know some people that are pretty freakin' awesome and would probably have crazy impressive long resumes with more important skills on them then 'I haz me some good people skillz' in the 2.5 spaces allotted for describing how wonderful and amazing you are for _____ job.

Speaking of that...Why do we even HAVE resumes? Really? I mean..Who decided that this was such a brilliant idea? What does a piece of paper that's filled with little bits of fluff say about ME? Me as a PERSON? It says basically nothing. Anyone can write ANYTHING down about themselves. They can write that they're organized when really..they are the furthest thing from it. They can babble on about how wonderful they were at their last job..when they sucked more than anything. It's just a piece of paper that determines whether or not you get an interview..which means they take 15 minutes out of their day and determine whether or not they like you.

Which, by the way..I don't know about you..but taking 15 minutes to get to know someone...well...you have a be a pretty darn good judge of character. Which, by the way, I don't think that most people can be in FIFTEEN MINUTES. I know whole bunches of people who can lie for WAAAAY longer than that. I've known people that can lie to me and manipulate me for YEARS. So after 15 minutes...I really don't know how much you can know about ANYONE.

I just don't understand why things HAVE to be done in a certain way and WHY it's necessary to do it this way. It doesn't make the least bit of logical sense to me why someone would care if I have this centered, or indented or bolded or underlined..and I don't get WHY it MUST be done this way because generations previous to us..that's the way it was done.

Maybe I should go eat some red dye number 2? Or maybe take up smoking because it's cool and sophisticated. Or perhaps I'll shun anyone who has a mental illness and advise that they be put into an institution? Logical, right?

OF COURSE IT'S NOT. Of COURSE I would never do those things. That would just be ridiculous.

(Oh wait, North America DID ship all that lovely red stuff to Africa when they banned it and I DID eat it once unknowingly while I was there - Crap. But I will not be fooled again! Word to the wise - don't eat ketchup at fast food joints in Africa. Bad idea.)

ANYWHO. Turns out, generations before us..they don't know everything. And maybe..JUST MAYBE..we don't either. Even when it comes to 'etiquette' that we just HAVE to follow when it comes to writing a stupid RESUME that in the grand scheme of things...uhh...DOESN'T MATTER.

I guess what I'm saying is that I hate this process. Never having had to *gulp* make a resume before. Never having to have looked for a job before...I just can't wrap my pretty little head around it. Buuut..being the one who sifted through resumes that were all carbon copies of each other? Well...it puts me in an odd position. A position where I question this entire process even more...and wonder what the point is.

Before you ask, no...I don't have an answer as to how it can be better..or what could be fixed. But man...I already hate it for the arbitrary garbage that it is....and I haven't even begun. You may just think that I'm irrationally angry and taking my anger out on said job-hunting process..but deep down..it just seems like a whole lot of nonsense to me. It's the man..telling me what to do...and I'm sick of being told what to do. Next thing you know..I'm gonna up and join a hippie commune because I'm so fed up with it.

Man, I take it back..rules ARE stupid.

That's tonight's conclusion.

And I'm sticking to it...at least until I go to brush my teeth.

Nagging Nellys

If there is something that really gets under my skin more than most things..it's being nagged to do something.

To do...ANYTHING.

If it's a reminder of something I've honestly forgotten...then I have no problem doing it. If you're nagging me to do something..in all liklihood..I probably don't want to do it. I probably have reasons why I don't want to do it. And I probably won't share the reasons because I hate confrontation and sharing my true feelings. Oh, and I hate nagging.

I'm one of those people..who when nagged...I have the tendency to do the opposite of whatever it is that is asked of me.

For instance..my mother repeatedly bugs me to do something? Yeah, you can bet that it's not going to get done ANY time soon. And the more she asks, the slower it gets done. She doesn't understand that I HATE being asked to do things over and over and over again...and it seems that SO many people just don't GET that.

I have my own agenda..I have my own list of things to do that sits in my head..nagging me all day long..I don't need another person with their own personal list of things that I am supposed to be doing for them...and repeating that list every 2.5 mili-seconds.

Kind of makes me want to claw my eyes out to not see the notes, emails and 'friendly reminders', to rip off my ears just so that they'll stop mentioning it...and to procrastinate doing it even longer. Just to teach them a lesson that their nagging techniques will not work on me.

I paid attention during all of my psyc. classes..and all of my behaviour modification classes...and all of my teachers college education. I do not reward behaviour that I don't like..and thus..when people nag me, which I don't like...I don't give in. It may be me being stubborn...and it may mean that I'm a bad person..but because I'm not using my five years of university in any other way....I'll use it to flat out, without a doubt, refuse to reward this behaviour.

Even if it just means that I'm being a stubborn, mean, vindictive person.

Or, maybe it just means that I'm being a person who REALLY doesn't like being nagged.