twist

Today a 16 year old girl on a power trip tried to fuck me out of some well deserved ice cream. After trying to steal my joy by giving me the most grotesque specialty flavor that the establishment had to offer (when i had ordered a simple choc/van swirl). I, undeterred, attempted to rectify the situation by asking her to replace the cup she'd given me with the correct order. As rudely as possible, and I'm sure this B-face was trying her hardest, she told me that I got exactly what I asked for, she remembers me ordering it and she remembers making it... No shit sherlock, it was like, 45 seconds ago. Not only was I told off by a prepubescent future flag line leader, but I was completely denied my right to customer satisfaction. I was told that here (in the great state of Illinois) a "swirl" is the specialty flavor. I looked at the machine and saw the word 'twist" where the choc/van SWIRL would be located... not only that, but I didn't see the term "swirl" written anywhere in the place; not on the machines, the chalk board, the menu or her face. Seriously.... SERIOUSLY? Did I stand my ground and tell the most popular girl in shitsville to eat it, to let me talk to the manager, or just correct this shit mistake and give me what I asked/paid for?!? Of course not. I took two bites of the the poo pile and sent my friend Alex in to take care of the witch.... 10 minutes later, I had my ice cream, he had his confrontation satisfaction for the day and I'm praying she cries herself to sleep tonight... No, I hate crying, it makes me sad. But I hope that Meth Face took a real look at herself and realized she needed to seriously change a fucking screw or two before she winds up in the crack house she's bound to wind up... that is all.

Foolishness

I often times forget that my college is actually just one of dozens that make up one of the largest universities in the country. I neglected to take that into consideration the other afternoon when I took what was meant to be a leisurely, yet quick, trip to the university book store in the hopes of picking up some light reading for one of my classes. A class whose title alone might bore you to the point of pulling out your eyeballs, so for now, it's irrelevant. So anywho, it was enlightening, wedging my way past the hoards of undergrads who'd gathered together, all unbathed, ready and eager to invest their parents savings on books they'd never need to open. Making a bee line to my text, I snatched it up and was in the longest line of my life within 6 minutes of entering the thunderdome. With 20 students in front of me and an ever growing number lining up behind, I avoided any form of eye contact by fidgeting around with the clearance books that had been piled up on a a table, like apples in the produce section of the food city near my house. The guy behind me was a little more eager than I was and without warning I saw the man grab for a book that was most definitely toward the bottom of the massive heap causing the entire stock to come tumbling down at his feet. Trying to be a polite and kind individual I turned my back to him. Hearing the constant and seemingly endless "plop "plop" plop" "plop" of each and ever book on the table hit the ground behind me I cringed as everyone in the store turned to stare and mock the poor schmuck. Not wanting to add to his humiliation I looked around the sore rather than turning and gawking at him, and I noticed that the entire establishment seemed to have simultaneously stopped all business to look in out direction. I felt so bad for this poor kid and decided I couldn't in good conscious leave him to the eyes of wolves to pick up what must have been at least 60 books to clean up. So I turned, ready to sacrifice my own self comfort to come to his aid. As I came around however, expecting to see him at my feet gathering up his humility, I was shocked to see him standing, staring directly, at me.... he might as well have a had a huge neon sign pointing at me, suggesting that I had been the one who caused the avalanche. Our eyes met, I glanced around the store, realizing that the hundreds of spectators were judging my grace and not even wavering at his. I had intentions to help this mother fucker save a sliver of his dignity and all I got in return was the full burden of the blame!! I looked back at my nemesis, held his gaze for a few seconds, both of us aware of this betrayal of my humanity and with just one word I began and ended our sick relationship...."Seriously?". Set my book down, and walked out. I hate law school.

My Greatness

So my new writing prof gave the us a simple assignment that was due on friday. We were each supposed to write a one page personal essay. Something that would tell him a little bit about each of us. I took his instructions at face value and wrote a one page ran t detailing the ins and outs of why I am the way I am. On friday, as the collection of personal essays passed by my desk on their way up to the front, I was shocked to see that every single essay was a mini resume. For real, every single one of them began with, "I was born in... insert laundry list of achievements... and now I'm here in law school." I had done it again!!! My mind is just incapable of "clicking" like a drone law student. I'm glad I still have a personality, I'm not to excited that it was too late to pull my essay out of the batch. I can see it all unfolding, he's sitting at the kitchen counter sunday morning, hot coffee and cereal, leisurely reading through the pages of intelligent, articulate biographical information, necessary for his judgment and gage on who we will be as lawyers and what we will become in the future; and then he reads this:

"I have four names. First, two middle and last. When I get married I hope to keep all of mine and add a fifth, then I will resemble a true law firm and my dreams of having the world’s most disorganized business cards will be realized. I was born and raised right here in the great state of Arizona, which is also the proud home of the world’s largest solar telescope and the producer of over one million metric tons of lettuce annually. I didn’t always want to be an attorney, in fact for the first decade of my life I wanted to be a waitress, a profession I dabbled in during college and I have since retired from.

I was pretty convinced that I wanted to be an attorney from about middle school on. I grew up in a house full of attorneys. Both of my parents as well as my older brother are lawyers. You might think this would lead to a massive amount of arguing at home, and you would be correct. However, it is because of that environment that I have grown into a person who can have a debate, about the most serious of issues and not take personal offense when someone disagrees with me.

High school was uneventful; I was in the marching band, played on the basketball team and was president of the speech and debate squad. I went back East for college and I was ecstatic to be as far away from the southwest as my acceptance letters would take me. The excitement was cut short when just a few weeks after arriving I sat at my window and watched the twin towers fall to the earth. A few months later in February of the following year my brother was in Tempe during Mardi Gras celebration on Mill and was attacked by a drunk college kid who stabbed him. My brother almost died a number of times over the next few weeks but in the end he walked out of the hospital alive but unable to ever use his left arm again. I decided to come home.

I lived in Phoenix again for a year, then moved to Los Angeles, a city whose inhabitants all tend to treat one another like something they’ve stepped in. After a couple of years of people watching, creative writing and enjoying a semi lucrative career slinging TV’s to B list movie stars at Best Buy, I came home ready to finish school and start something new. I have a condo in north Phoenix and live with my best friend who also happens to be my dog, Sy. Sy is the funniest aspect of my world. He is the most massive K-9 in a 3-mile radius, yet he’s convinced he’s a lap dog and the poor guy is afraid of everything. A loud noise occurs and I have a bear trying to squeeze himself under my bed, only to get his gigantic head stuck and in need of rescue.

Back at ASU and with three years till graduation, I needed an outlet. So, I decided to join the speech and debate team. I love to write, perform and persuade. Forensics allows me to do all of that competitively. Last year I finished nationals as one of the nations top 14 speakers for both prose and poetry interpretation and I won the 2008 national title in dramatic interpretation. I continue to be heavily involved with the team. I write the way I speak and perform. Unfortunately the years spent writing persuasive speeches and programmed prose and poetry, is proving to be less than helpful in law school. If only briefs could be written in haiku, the reading might be more interesting, albeit perhaps more confusing. I am hoping to drastically improve. If not, perhaps I will divorce my first husband, keep the name, marry again and pride myself on having a business card that’s even more disorganized than originally thought possible. "

Nanny Needed

Today I answered an add on Craigs List. They wanted a college graduate who was willing to tutor their 8 year old twin boys. They pay was awesome, the hours seemed perfect and the mom sounded really nice when I called for an interview. When I showed up it took about 15 minutes before I realized they wanted a "new face" for the "feature films" they made in the house next door. I go to be a Nanny, I get solicited for porn. I was so disappointed, while mildly flattered. She promised close to $2000 a week! $2000 cash!! Holy fuck I need a job.