Countdown to Xmas

I don't really have anything exciting to write about, but I decided I felt like writing, nevertheless.  I am counting down the days until Christmas, when I plan to finally take a couple of days off from work to spend with my boyfriend.  It's already been over a month since I've seen him and I'm on the edge of crazy again (not that I'm not always pretty insane).  Thanksgiving was pretty awesome this year; my sister and brother in law had it at their upstate house (my Grandma's old house that they purchased and have slowly been renovating since last winter).  The food was delicious, and both sides of my family came (both sides totaling a whopping 18 people, lol).  Here are some pictures from the fabulous Thanksgiving (before guests arrived):

One of the three tables set up to accommodate the guests

The main table... so Homes and Gardens :p

My brother-in-law's Marzipan pigs... they were a hit

Cheeeeese!  I probably ate about a pound before dinner was even served

I got my first paycheck from work the other day, and it  almost made my harsh feelings towards Mollister Co. subside a little bit.  And that was just for one weeks pay... I can't wait to receive my first bi-weekly paycheck, I'll be rich BITCH!  jk.  It's been a battle forcing myself to save damn near every cent I'm making, but I keep reminding myself of my future apartment and the independent lifestyle that will go with it, come early Spring.  I have scrimped and saved about 3,500 thus far, and plan to have $10,000 before relocating and finding another job.  It's so hard to save money this time of year- I've already spent so much money on Christmas presents and I still need to get my parent's presents. I don't know what's happened to me, but in my advanced age, I find it far more satisfying to buy presents for others than I do to receive them.  I fucking love shopping for people... I find I want to buy them everything and it's hard to limit myself.  I even start to think about all of the clothes at work I could buy with my sweet employee discount.  I hate Mollister Co clothes generally speaking, but when I'm walking around the store at work, suddenly everything starts to look appealing and I want to buy that shit for everyone, including myself ("omg, my bf would be so comfy in these sweats, my sister would like this cozy sweater...I want this skirt for myself!"- that's what a day on the selling floor is like).  I finally gave in today, and I treated myself to some new heels (on sale!)  and some $19 hot pants that were on clearance at Urbanoutfitter, as I deserve a treat for working so hard, and I've been wanting something sexy in my life.  I have a decent bonus coming on my next paycheck since our store exceeded our Black Friday goal, and I survived the asshole customers shopping that day, so I think a little splurge on myself is completely justified.  I really wanted to buy myself this little number from Nastygal.com:

http://www.nastygal.com/clothes%2Ddresses/imagination%2Dmesh%2Ddress%2D%2Divory

Thank God they didn't have it available in an xs, because I know in reality, I'd probably never get a chance to wear it outside of the house and it'd be a waste of $68.... maybe I will buy it after Christmas if my size is available, using my Christmas money... we all deserve a bit of frivolity in our lives every now and then :p  And hey, my body isn't going to be this nice forever, why not show it off before it gets old? haha


I have this new approach to life as of late- a positive way of living.  I was starting to become really annoying to all those in my life by cutting myself down and shitting on myself all the time; I'd constantly berate myself and say stuff like "I'm fat," "I'm ugly," "I can't do anything right,"  "no one likes me,"  "I'm a bad mother to my cats,"  "I'm a bad person."  You know what though, none of that stuff I was saying is true.  Now when I'm in a negative mood and I feel like saying anything negative about myself, I turn it into a positive... and I'm actually starting to believe all of the positive things I say.  Watch out world, my ego is so inflated it's unreal.  When I look in the mirror and want to say I'm fat after eating a 4,000 calorie meal, I instead look into the mirror and I say, "Damn, Kelsey, you are so fucking fit it's unreal."  When I want to say that I'm ugly, after a night with minimal sleep, instead I look into the mirror and I say "omg, I have the most beautiful, unique face and amazing bone structure."  lmao... you'd be surprised how well this technique has been working for me, even though I've only been using the 'positive approach to an egotistical lifestyle' (as I like to refer to my method) for a little over a week.  I feel like a new person.  I don't know why I was shitting on myself so hard for a while, I must have been in a serious slump.  I can do anything I set my mind too.  Nothing and no one can stop me, you know why?  Because I am fucking amazing and perfect in *almost* every way.  Now, instead of feeling insecure and weird looking when I see girls with pretty, cookie-cutter faces (you know the type- cute smile, little nose, tan) and blonde hairs, I think, wow, it must suck to look like every other broad out there.  I recommend this approach to everyone who struggles with self-image issues, because it works.  It especially helps to say things out loud.  For example, I would sometimes bitch to my boyfriend or sister on the phone (which must have been really annoying- I'm sorry guys) about my appearance:  "ugh, I'm so fucking fat and homely today," but now I say "You know what, I had three pieces of cake last night, [instead of inserting fat comment here you instead say:] BUT I'm the hottest fucking bitch alive." hahahah.  I decided to play dress-up today, as I am tired of wearing flip-flops and jeans on a daily basis.  I wish I could dress this sexy every day:

Tis the season

Finally a day off after 13 consecutive days of work... thank God.   I detail-cleaned my car, am in the process of laundering my gargantuan pile of clothes and bedding, put up the cat's new house, and have checked two people off my Christmas shopping list (online shopping beats actual shopping ANY day- you can find exactly what you want, access stores that aren't in your area, the sizes are generally stocked, and if your order is over 50 dollars, it's usually free... AND you can do price comparisons and see 120 items at once... that's what I call shopping).  I can't remember the last time I went shopping in a store and actually enjoyed the experience.  I can never find what I'm looking for and then I get all pissy.


It felt so good to sleep in past 6:30 am today.  Especially after the wretched day I had yesterday.  I know I've posted entries where I bitch about rude customers before, but OMG... yesterday definitely surpassed any of my past experiences in terms of awful customers.  I was ready to cry, and almost did.  I spent all day yesterday running around, directing associates and assigning them tasks in addition to folding, cashiering, running the dressing rooms, and doing stock.  The store got super busy around noon, and I was running around trying to keep shit neat as hoards of thirteen year old girls, shoplifting fifteen year old boys, and crazed parents tore it apart searching for specific sizes.  I was heading over to fix the clearance denim wall and noticed this woman standing there, so I asked her if I could help her find anything.   Instead of giving me a polite, 'yes' or 'no' answer, this bitch said to me:  "This wall [of jeans] is SO messy, how am I supposed to find anything?!"  I almost lost my shit right then and there, and I couldn't help but give a bitchy response, "Well, we did just have about 50 shoppers in here at once, what size are you looking for?"  She was looking for a double 00.  I'm not sure how anyone in her family could have been a 00, when she was morbidly obese at around 400 lbs (not even lying).  I was searching for the 00 jeans, when she said to me, "Your hair is long; is that your real hair?"  Oh my fucking God, you dumb, fat bitch.  Does my ass look black to you?  Does my hair look fake to you?  That's what I wanted to say.  But I bit my tongue and said, "yes, it's real" (It took every ounce of self control I had to stop myself from adding, 'but yours sure as hell isn't').  I took my lunch promptly after that because I was stressed and reading to slit throats at that point.

I went to Dunkin for my afternoon coffee fix, as it usually puts me into a better mood.  But the line was about 10 cars long and I wasn't willing to wait 30 minutes for a $4 beverage.  I drove back the mall parking lot, and pulled into one of the aisles to park.  This fat bitch was walking up the center of the aisle at a leisurely pace.  There were also normal people walking to the side of the aisle (where one SHOULD be walking in a parking lot) so I couldn't possibly go to either side of her.  She just kept walking up the center of the aisle while I trailed behind her at about 1 mph.  I thought about honking, but there were children with parents and I didn't want to be rude.  Finally the fat fuck turned to go to her car.  I know something so trivial shouldn't bother me so much, but it was almost the straw that broke this camel's back. I finally pulled into a parking space and spent the remaining 30 minutes of my lunch break trying to pull my shit together.  When I went back into work, life only got worse.

When I walked back into Mollister, the "models" (I hate referring to minimum wage associates as 'models' like "Mollister" says I should...because who are we kidding, they're not fucking models, they're decent looking kids working retail) were doing their jobs, either greeting customers or busy folding clothes.  I found myself taking over the cash register, as the store was still really busy and a line of customers was forming.  There was an angry looking woman standing at the front of the line with a pile of clothes; probably about 10 articles of clothing, all of them sweats and t-shirts.  It takes so long to scan the clothes,  take off the sensors (and they are on EVERYTHING in this store) and fold and bag the clothes.  I had finished de-sensoring and was about to put the pile of clothes into a bag.  I had the clothes folded over once (neat, but not perfect, as is protocol when you're checking someone out) and was about to put them into the bag when this fat bitch shouted:  "Excuse me, what are you doing?"  (Me, with a dumbfounded look...not knowing I'd done anything wrong) "Are you really going to put the clothes into the bag like that?!"  (me still dumbfounded).  "Aren't you going to fold them?"  What a fucking cunt.  I wanted to slap her.  My face grew hot with embarrassment.  I hadn't done anything wrong, and the clothes were neatly folded over.  I mean, she wasn't purchasing a fucking suit, or even a dress shirt.  These were already wrinkled, cotton, lounge clothes.  I sucked back my anger and said "I'm sorry."  And so I began folding the clothes, meticulously, silently, and pain-stakingly slow, while that fat, fucking cunt stood there shaking her head in disgust and watched me fold each and every shirt like it was the finest silk and about to go on display in the window of Saks 5th avenue.  I was enraged.  I was humiliated.  After I was done, I was forced to thank her and tell her to have a nice day, even though I wanted to punch her in the back of the knees and after she had fallen, climb on her back and punch her some more while pulling her fucking permed mullet.  How can someone be SO FUCKING RUDE??????   There was a line of like, 5 customers waiting behind her, and I was folding her clothes to go into the bag in the same manner I always do for every customer, and apparently that wasn't good enough.  I really hate people sometimes.  I mean, I'm sure rude people have always been in existence, but I am starting to think that manners are a slowly dissipating art-form.  It is few and far between that a customer treats me with the same respect I treat them with.  And I find that half the customers who are supremely rude are fat.  I'm sorry if I'm a bigot right now, but if you're fat and hating your life and taking it out on others...fucking don't eat so much and take more walks.  It's not hard.   What is wrong with Americans?  What is wrong with humanity?

When I finally punched out after 9 hours running around on my feet all day, I met my family to go out to dinner.  We went to the Lost Dog Cafe, where the wait was going to be about 40 minutes.  I wanted to down a few drinks, but since I was driving my car and still had to drive home from Binghampton, alcohol wasn't an option.  I felt pangs of hatred towards pretty much everyone as I stood looking around at the crowd, because my heart was wounded from the savage verbal assaults of the day.  I spotted some blonde bitch teetering around in boots with a 4-inch heel.  I always get so angry when I see people who try to pull of heels and think they're hot shit, but they can't walk in them and look like the have a corncob up their butt.   I've been walking in 5 inch heels gracefully since like the age of 15, but perhaps I'm just an exception, and that's why I get so angry seeing girls who can't walk in them.  I think I was also angry because this blonde bitch did in fact have a weave.  I remembered the comment from the fat lady earlier, asking if MY hair was fake, and then I spotted some actual fake hair and was disgusted.  I'm sorry, white girls should never get weaves.  This girl's hair was as yellow and acrylic as a Barbie's  hair and hung almost to her butt in nasty, manufactured ringlets.  I could see her dark roots from 20 feet away, and the tiny clumps where the extensions were attached/weave was sewed in.  I really wanted a drink at that point in time.  Luckily the wait wasn't as long as they said it would be, and we were promptly seated.  The food was awesome, and I was glad I didn't get alcoholic beverages, because I probably consumed upwards of 3,000 calories.

I really hope work gets better, because right now, every day there is painful.  I hate being told what to wear (especially when my choices are limited to plaid button-ups, jeans, and navy cardigans, and like, two skirts), I hate being told how to style my makeup, told that I can't wear any accessories, having to wear fucking ugly ass flipflops in winter, and having no control over my appearance.  I hate being told I have to remove a simple, classic, tiny gold necklace with an initial, when fucking skanks working the floor can get away wearing fake, porn-star acrylic nails (NOT ALLOWED BY COMPANY POLICY).    I hate tuning into conference calls run by men who must have miniscule peens based on what douche bags they come across as, even on the phone.  I fucking hate this company, I hate retail, and as soon as my bank account reaches $8,000 I'm peacing out.

Kill me now.

Why the world is fucked:

Company's hiring on a basis of looks.  If you can't legally discriminate based on skin color, sexual orientation, or religion, how can you discriminate on a basis of physical aesthetics... especially when beauty is in the eye of the beholder?  I don't understand how this is at all fair.  Not only do we have videos at "Mollister" telling us how to 'recruit' store associates purely on the basis of how they look, but on the hiring /interview application, you rate a candidate's personal 'style and attractiveness' with a number (1-3).  I always thought that work ethic, intelligence, personality, and diligence were more important in helping to score a job than how 'hot' someone was.  I mean, I know this is a brand that sells their over-rated shit based largely on a 'lifestyle image,' but something tells me that if I was smart, friendly, hard-working, and I fit the "image," but I was busted and chubby, I wouldn't get the job; but someone who was a '10,' and dumb as a bag of bricks would get it over me.  For example, the Mollister image, is a young, fresh-faced, relaxed, beachy attitude.  They don't like associates to wear makeup, they like 'natural' hair (no cornrows, mohawks, chunky highlights, or overly styled hair) and they like associates to wear their boring, busted, clothes (that, might I add, are the same season after season).  Take a look at the following scenario:  

Candidate A shows up to an interview, make-up free, dressed in their ill-fitting jeans, plaid shirt, and flops (the 'Mollister' look).  This candidate has a 3.8 GPA, and tons of credentials, but they are also overweight and don't have perfect facial-symmetry.

Candidate B shows up to the same interview.  She is 5'8", 125 lbs, has a C-cup and a 'cookie-cutter cute face.'  She is also dressed in 'Mollister' attire.  She is super ditzy, graduated with a 3.0 GPA, and is unfriendly to customers.  She WILL GET THE JOB OVER CANDIDATE A, ONLY BECAUSE SHE FITS AN "ASPIRATIONAL" IMAGE better than the previous candidate.  

Does that make any sense to you?  No, me neither.  

Photoshop, and the media's representation of women.  I'm so sick of it.  As a woman, as a person.  I think every woman reading this can admit to having days where she either hates her body, her face, or at the very least wishes she was born with something she was not, and can never have (ex. wishing she was taller, wishing she was an hourglass as opposed to a pear shape, etc.).  Not to discredit men, I'm sure they have off days as well, not to mention they feel pressure to fit ideal, masculine body images.  However, I think it's safe to say women have it a lot worse.  I am very guilty of body-snarking.  I find I do it on days when I'm feeling bad about myself (what's that saying about me? :p).  But really, it's awful and I don't condone it.  I hate looking at tabloids when I'm standing in the grocery store line saying things like "Christina Aguilera's weight issue."  I'm sorry, yes, she put on weight.  She could have had a raging eating disorder before, and maybe now she is eating normal and at a healthy weight.  I mean, I remember watching a behind the music once, and her mom was heavy, so I'm sure that it's probs coded in her DNA.  Maybe she is a lot happier at 160 lbs than she was at 110 lbs.  Why is a woman's weight public domain?  I know that overweight people are discriminated against, but I think it's important to recognize that thin people are discriminated against too.  Maybe they don't have it quite so bad as overweight people, but I don't understand how some people feel that they have a right to comment on a person's size, looks, or weight to their face.  I mean, a guy saying "damn, look at that ass" is highly offensive, but it's also offensive to tell someone who is thin to "eat a cheeseburger."  I don't even know what I'm saying right now.  I'm so overly tired it's ridiculous.  I just am tired of living in a world where we have unrealistic expectations set for us by photoshop and tabloids, and shitty tv (Entertainment tonight).  In the same way that tabloids shame fat women, I think they all too often glorify celebrities with legitimate eating disorders.  I become deeply disturbed when I see a tabloid saying that Angelina Jolie is "too thin, at only 100 lbs." and then the same day watch a show on tv where she is ranked as the world's most beautiful woman.  The two don't go hand in hand.  That's not ok to me, it's not ok at all to say that someone is thin, and list their weight and say they are sick, and then to say that they're beautiful and all women wished they looked like her.   It was the same way with Nicole Richie back in the day, and Lindsay Lohan when she was thin.  Now it's Kate Middleton and Kate Bosworth.  When you put pictures of thin girls in their bikinis on the cover of tabloids and say things like "looks shocking at only 95 lbs." the message to girls looking at that tabloid usually isn't 'wow, that's sad,' it's more along the lines of 'why can't I be that thin/beautiful."  Then you have plastic bitches like Megan Fox denying she's ever had surgery.  Riiiiight.  We can all tell she's had work done, so why is she perpetuating this idea she was born looking like a perfect, silicon blow up doll to young fans?  Wouldn't it be better to say, 'I paid for this face, this isn't real'?  I got thoroughly offended last week reading about some ridiculous diet of a Victoria's Secret model (Adriana Lima) prior to the VS Fashion Show.  These women are underwear models because they are gorgeous with 'perfect' bodies; so to say that they feel they aren't runway ready and need to go on all liquid diets for two weeks prior to the show, what's that say to the 15 year old girls looking up to them?  You can never be good enough, you can never be fit enough, toned enough, sexy enough, beautiful enough.  Girls today have it even worse than the girls of my generation I think, with all of the social media available now.  It's really sad, when 7 year olds worry about diets (I've seen it with my own eyes), and 13 year olds think that their puberty chub is 'fat.'  I know this is a country of a very high obesity rate, and that's not ok either.  Children shouldn't be fed McDonald's 3 times a week, it's not healthy and it's not responsible.  It seems like there is no winning in today's world.  I feel like girls are constantly told they will never be 'enough.'  You have to be smart, but not smart enough to turn off boys and intimidate them.  You have to be friendly and flirtatious, but not so much that you come across as a slut.  You have to be nice, but not a doormat who gets taken advantage of.  You have to be thin, but not so thin that people worry about your weight, you have to be beautiful/hot, because 'pretty' just isn't enough.  Why do I always feel like I'm in a competition with all women?  Is it the way I was born?  I don't think so.   I think it's how society molded me and every other woman my age.   

I'd like to keep writing about reproductive rights (free birth control... brilliant!), over-population (if birth rates have gone down in the US, why is every single person prego?), adoption (help the population crisis and don't be selfish), the economy (were all fucked), and more shit (stray animals, people who shouldn't own animals...)... but I'm exhausted and have to wake up for an eye appointment at 8:30am, followed by cleaning house for an old lady from 10-12, then work from 2-11pm.  When I get home at midnight, I will have to go to bed so I can get up by 6:30am and be to work by 9am saturday.... fuck me.  All I want is my boyfriend and some time off.  Maybe those Jeffrey Campbell 'lita' booties and a someone to publish my almost finished book.  Is that really so much for a girl to ask for?  Evidently it is.  My Christmas gift to myself this year is going to be time off, I don't care if I'm fired.  

This is probably illegal...

But I will change the name of my new place of employment to "Mollister Co." so as to avoid any legal ramifications, should someone important read this blog (as if that would ever happen).  I was so excited to ditch Macehole's for the Manager in Training position at Mollister; more money, more hours, the opportunity to start a 401k and actually get paid time off... sigh.  My dreams were dashed as soon as I went in to fill out my paper work last Friday.  I'll get into that in a minute, but for now, I'm just going to start this entry off with a little bitching sesh about my life as of late.

By the time I wrap up work this coming Friday, I will have worked for 13 days straight, without having had a SINGLE day off.  That in itself is nuts, especially considering that there are days where I close at 10:00 pm, don't get home until 11pm, and then have to open the next day at 9am.  I guess it's my fault for choosing to start my new job the same week I'm phasing out of my old one at Macehole's.  I am working at Mollister on the days that are scheduled as my 'days off' at Macehole's.  What a dumb move that was.  I'm not sure when I'll see my boyfriend again, because everyone knows (at least those of you whom have been unfortunate enough to work in retail) that the months of November through January are essentially blackout periods, and you can't request time off.  Sucks for me.

I had the worst Friday ever last week.  As you are well aware, the feral cat situation in my backyard needed preventative measures taken, in the form of some spaying and neutering.  Little Bijou was neutered last week, and came home the same evening he went in, all fine and dandy (if not still a little high from the pussy tranqs lmao.... "pussy tranqs" ahahahahahahahah).   Anyhow, little PotPie, who is much more savage than her friendly brother, will not allow human hands to touch her.  So, sadly, we needed to live-trap her in order to prevent her from getting prego and giving birth to another homeless litter that we would feel the need to feed.  It is one of the saddest things watching a wild animal (which, technically she is) get trapped in a cage and frantically trying to get out :(   omg, I felt like a monster.  I brought her to the vet on Thursday, and dropped her off for surgery.  I got a call from the vet saying she did just fine and was relieved to hear that.  Friday afternoon, my mom went to pick her up (she had to stay the night for observation).  The vet recommended keeping her inside, since a female getting spayed is a far more invasive procedure than a male being neutered, and allowing her to run around outdoors might prove dangerous to her sutures.  My mom thought that since she was terrified of human contact, the solitude of the garage might be an apt place to house her whilst she recovered.  My mom bought a litter box and a padded cat bed to put in the garage upon Potpie's arrival home.  However, I thought that it would be wise to show little Bijou his sister was o.k. (seeing as how he witnessed her trapping and subsequent disappearance), and so I brought Bijou into my room to wait for Potpie's homecoming.  I also thought that the garage would be too chilly, and that perhaps, she could just recover in my bedroom for a few days.  When she arrived, I carried her into my room in the cat carrier, and opened the door.  She ran straight under my bed.

My sister and brother in law came upstate this weekend with their savage ragdoll, Emma.  Not to discredit Emma- she is a beautiful cat, but my God, she is spoiled and meaner than any animal I know (my sister will say this is only because I taunt her, but I only taunt her after she attempts to claw me, hisses at me, pisses on me as I sleep at night (yes, Emma has given me not one, but TWO golden showers before) and refuses to let me pet her).  Naturally, Emma does not get along with other cats, and so it was demanded of me that Potpie be removed from the house before Emma's arrival.  I couldn't possibly get Potpie back in the cat carrier; I didn't have the heart to trap her again after what she'd just been through... I mean, I already took the poor cat's reproductive rights away.  I opened my door and then Potpie darted under the guest bed in the next room.  Setting out some turkey on the floor was pointless, because even if she fell for the bait, she would never let me pick her up or usher her into the carrier to be brought out to the garage.  I was forced to swoosh her out, ever so gently, with a broom. She went nuts, and ran downstairs, where all the doors were closed.. thank God.  She started hissing, and like the Tazmanian Devil, went absolutely bonkers.  Meanwhile my mom was bitching at me, and berating me for my ignorance.  I was in hysterics, and all sorts of shook-up watching a defenseless animal tearing down books as she tried to scale the bookshelf in the downstairs hallway.  We opened the side door, and she ran up the stairs and out.  I already felt like shit for letting her get stressed like that, but I felt worse after my mom and sister told me she would probably get an infection and die... thanks guys.

I started to cry, but had to pull my shit together to go into 'Mollister' to do some paperwork, before heading to work the closing shift at Macehole's (kill me).  I got to Mollister and asked to see the manager (with whom I had spoken to on the phone a few days prior to arrange the time to do paperwork).  I won't go into details, but the first experience there was rather unprofessional.  I walked out of there ready to cry and wondering how I was going to fare amongst the ditzy staff with their flat-ironed hair.  But again, I couldn't have a good cry yet, because I had to work.  I was on the edge.

I was eternally grateful the next morning when PotPie showed up to breakfast and looked like she was doing just fine, however.  However, I lost my shit a little later in the day (my bf didn't call me before work, as is protocol in our long-distance relationship) and it was the last straw.  I was emo for the rest of the day, and even compliments from customers couldn't help my disposition this time (not even the Indian woman who always tells me I am 'so beautiful, like a princess'- you know you're fucked when I compliment like that doesn't help you feel a little bit better).  My weekend never really existed because I worked every, single day of it.  I did get to go out with my long-lost best friends on Saturday night however, which was awesome.  I had a lot of fun and only realized how much I miss their absence in my life when we don't see each other for weeks on end.  However, I didn't get in until 2am and had to work for  9 hours Sunday on little sleep... I'm still dog-tired and should probs be sleeping now.  My skin looks like shit, and I swear I have dark circles under my eyes.


So. Today was my first day at 'Mollister.'  Not only was I pretty much on my own and not being shown the things my manual said I was supposed to be, or guided through the things the manual said I was to be guided through, but I learned some really fucked up (in my own opinion) things about the company.  Recruiting, for instance:  As a manager, it is part of one's job to 'recruit' new employees (whom are referred to as "models") to work on the sales floor.   It is your goal to find 'good looking' people, who fit the 'Mollister' image, to work on the floor.  Since when did good looks mean you'll also get a good worker?  Just because someone is pretty or hot does not mean they are friendly or know how to aid a customer... and from what I casually observed on the floor today, the 'models' didn't really do much at all in terms of actively greeting or helping shoppers.  There are already like 40 employees there (no exaggeration), and as a result, many only work a few hours a week, and there is apparently a 'high turnover' rate amongst employees.  FUCKING DUH CORPORATE  No wonder there is such a high turnover, and a need to even recruit new 'models' in the first place!  Maybe if employees were allotted more hours, they wouldn't need to quit in order to find a better job (with more hours).  How can we even hire new people with so many already employed?  Christ.  Thank God I'm not part-time, and thank God I was never attractive enough to be a 'Mollister' model (and by attractive I mean owning a decent push-up bra, having a nice base tan, and having pin-straight hair).

And the dress code, OMG, the dress code!  ... FUCK ME.  

How is it even remotely ok to wear THIS to work:  

...No, I'm not even lying, we are allowed to wear short-shorts in the winter with a plaid button-up.  

But we may not wear this:

The skirt and cardigan are both Mollister brand.  We may wear skirts to work, but not with tights... Strange, I thought it felt a little like Winter out there, guess I was wrong.  

I mean, I know this is a southern California brand (supposedly), but really?  We can't wear opaque, solid-color tights to work in the winter?  Now I'm no better than the trash walking around with bare legs on any given night in December on Water St. in downtown Oneonta.  On top of that rubbish, you are told how to roll your sleeves, how to cuff your jeans (yes, they must be cuffed), and you may only wear the following footwear:

1. Converse (I don't think that's really me, last I checked I wasn't a hipster, a lesbian, or Avril Levine)

2. Flipflops (Sorry, it's winter in New York; I am not on the beach).

Good bye 5' 8", hello 5' 3.5".    I bought myself some extra, racy lingerie to negate the lack of femininity currently faced on the job.  I hope it comes this week, for surely, it will boost my esteem to put on something tight, short, lacy and perfectly matched with heels.  Sigh.  At least their jeans make my butt look good.  I'm just so sad I can't wear them with boots or booties, to make it look even better (ladies, you all know your butt looks smaller and more defined when you put on heels...I hate the way my butt looks in jeans when I'm wearing flats).  I'm thinking about treating myself to some outrageous heels to compensate.  However, I keep telling myself that with this job, I can save money to peace the fuck out of here relatively soon (so I guess the new heels will have to wait)... and that fact in itself makes 'Mollister' totally worth it.  

Emo days

Does anyone else have days where they wake up emo for no apparent or justifiable reason?  Today I had one of those days... the kind of day when every song you hear during the morning commute either makes you sad, nostalgic for happier/more carefree days, or utterly hopeless.  You can't put your finger on it, but everything bothers you and makes you want to cry.   Dead animals on the road make your eyes water with tears, that song from 'Free Willy' (the theme song, written my Michael Jackson) makes you cry.  Even that homo-erotic song "How to Save a Life," by the Fray, makes you want to cry.  You don't know if you'll make it through another day at work because you hate it so much, even though you only have one more week left at said place of employment, and so you scream out loud "I FUCKING HATE WORK!!!" in your car and contemplate driving back home.  The kind of day where every foul, bitch-faced customer you wait on is THAT much closer to putting you over the edge of sanity.  The kind of day where all you want is to go home to your bf, but you can't because he's 300 miles away, you don't live together, and you don't know when you'll see him again because you're starting a new job and can't request any days off for a while.  The kind of day where you miss your Grandma, even though she's been dead for over a year.  The kind of day where everyone picks on you, and you don't know what you've done wrong.  The kind of day where you justify eating an entire Dove Chocolate bar for breakfast in the hopes it will boost your mood, but then you just feel fat.  That's the day I'm having.

I mean, I've had far worse days in my life.  Faaaarrrr worse days, which for the purposes of this blog, shan't be further discussed.  But today was one of those days where you contemplate throwing in the towel and just doing what your little heart desires; saying 'fuck it' to work, responsibilities, and whatever else is going on in your life and driving those 300 miles just so you can cuddle your bf.  I'm not taking life for granted- life is going moderately well for me right now.  It's just that the little annoyances in life adding up and driving you towards a breaking point.  I have a good life; I don't pay bills, I am starting a new job with far superior pay to my current one, I have plans to move to the city by February, I have friends and family I can count on, and a boyfriend who puts up with my crazy ass.  But when you will have worked 12 days in a row with no day off (as of next week), don't have plans to see your boyfriend anytime soon because of conflicting work schedules, haven't seen your two best friends in over a month due to work schedules, hate your current job with a passion, and every smug couple walking by is like a slap in the face reminding you you're going home to a couple of feral cats instead of the one person you miss most, life can be a bit overwhelming.  Especially when not only have you had a chocolate bar for breakfast (hey, it's excusable if you have your P), but then you eat a shit ton of Chinese food for dinner, and just know you will wake up bloated and thus, looking like an 11 year old in the face (believe me, I'm not exaggerating, salt makes me blow up and look 11).  I haven't worked on my book in almost two weeks, because I got to a really depressing part of my life in the journals and it was bringing me down even remembering what life was like at that point.  I should probably start writing again, so I can finish this book by January.

I am the most boring person ever these days.  I remember when I used to be social 5 nights out of 7.  Now, I'm lucky if I'm social two times a month.  What has happened to me?  That is the singular aspect of college I miss.  Drinking wine on a Wednesday.  Throwing outrageous, costume parties and wearing next to nothing.  Good times....  where have they gone?  I mean, I guess I've gotten substantially healthier from not consuming so many calories in alcohol each week.  But damn.  Now when I go out, everyone pisses me off.  The dumb sluts with their flabby ass cheeks exposed wearing dress that they really don't deserve to wear, the dumb bitches acting like trash and dry-humping dirty guidos on the dance floor, the douche bags who like those skanks and think they are demi-gods because they hit the gym daily, gross, gross, gross.  I get so emo when I drink under these conditions, it's intolerable.  Speaking of intolerable, I am pretty much alcohol intolerant in my advanced age.  I'm buzzed after one glass of wine, and drunk after two.  If I have three, I'm projectile vomiting across my bed and crying because my stomach hurts... what happened to the days where I could drink an entire bottle to my face and only be moderately hungover the next day?  They're gone.

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all

I must be a real bitch today, because despite my earlier blog, I still have more to complain about.  The savage thoughts permeating my mind and the curse words rolling off the tip of my tongue are akin to a burning fire that cannot be put out.  Tonight I went out for a lovely dinner at the Hidden Inn, in South Kortright.  This place used to be one of my favorite upstate restaurants.  From the very first time I went there (around the age of 10) up until I was 20, this place was a great spot to enjoy a quality family meal.  I remember going there once when I was deathly ill with a common cold and couldn't taste anything, and still managed to finish almost an entire entree of chicken parm because it was THAT good.  However, in the past year, they switched owners and revamped the interior along with the menu.  The atmosphere was nice, but whoever is in charge of that kitchen needs a serious intervention.  The appetizers were great (Caesar salad with whole anchovies, shaved cheese, and homemade croutons, a bowl of butternut squash soup topped with creme fraiche served in a sourdough bread bowl).  However the entrees, for lack of better terminology, sucked ass.  Firstly, the waitress listed at least three items that they were out of on the already small menu, which was a disappointment.  I ordered Thai fried rice with shrimp (I know what you're thinking "if it's not a Thai restaurant, don't order Thai), but I couldn't help myself.  The menu was small and I didn't feel like pork, beef, scallops, or trout tonight.  I even checked with the waitress to make sure that my meal didn't have cilantro in it (it is the bane of my existence).  My shrimp were over cooked, and the rice tasted like it had an entire lime chopped up and thrown in it... it was so sour and acidic I wanted to throw up.  Also, the menu had advertised my rice as having snow peas in it... there were none to be found; only large pieces of artfully chopped celery (Ive never had Thai food with celery in it before).  My dad's pork was dry, my mom's pumpkin risotto tasted creamy, but like nothingness, and my brother's prime rib was like rubber.  I almost died of laughter when my brother discovered the Halloween pumpkin by the entrance contained smarties and dumdums and said they were "probably to wash the taste of ass out of the customer's mouths."  I shared a creme brulee with my brother for dessert and it was probably one of the best I've ever had... but still didn't make up for my lackluster meal.  I sadly won't be going back to the Hidden Inn until they've changed hands again.  My stomach still hurts from what I'm convinced was the overabundance of acid in my meal... I probably have an ulcer now, jk (but it certainly does feel that way).

A couple of years ago, a friend told me about lookbook.nu, since we're both into clothes and style and shit.  I checked it out, and back then, I thought it was pretty nifty:  people uploading pictures of their outfits around the world.  I only check lookbook out once a month or so these days, but I've noticed that all of the girls and guys posting pictures of their "fashionable" ensembles, all look exactly the same.  How are you a trend setter when your outfit is almost identical to everyone else's?  Basically, it boils down to a bunch of hipster-trash, flaunting their "We're so different, we're all the same" ensembles for one another.  I'm pretty sure at this point in time, the site is more about "look at me, I'm so thin and hot," then "look at me, my outfit is stylish and put together."  

Typical girl's outfit:  

1.  Oversize, button up, mesh/lace shirt worn over bra (who's a sexy bitch?  You's a sexy bitch!)
2.  Bloomer-look short shorts, or pleated skirt worn high on waist
3.  skinny belt
4.  Porkpie hat
5.  Knee-highs
6.  Jeffrey Campbell 'Lita' booties

OR....

1.  Skinny jeans/disco pant leggings (the second skin type with a high waist and frontal, exposed zipper)
2.  Cropped sweater
3.  oversize scarf
4.  nerd glasses
5.  Platform booties

Cool enough for lookbook?  

This ensemble brought to you by Hipster-trash R' Us

You know you have violent tendencies when...

\You dream about punching people in your sleep.


Thursday, while pumping gas on my way to work, a lady bug landed on me, which is a sign of fortune and good luck.  I ended up having a $600 day at the Shiseido counter (which is awesome for such a small counter) and I received a handful of compliments from customers... which always boosts my self esteem (However, if I hear one more person say I look like a mannequin I might punch someone... because that is an effing lie).  My good fortune continued through Friday, when I found out I got the job I had interviewed for Wednesday, so I will soon be starting as the Manager in Training at Hollister!  I know it's nothing terribly prestigious, but it's a full time job that pays well, and has benefits (health insurance, 401K) and opportunity for career growth (not that I want to work retail as a career, but I can always transfer to another store in the city if need be).  I'm just excited because I can save up even more money before moving to the city to find a theatre job (in costuming)!  I was having a fantastic day up until that point, when things took a turn for the worst in the form of rude customers.

I'm not sure what it is with the Holiday season, but the shoppers start to mutate into rabid, volatile consumers, filled with greed, impatient tendencies, and bitch face.  First, I encountered this customer I had helped before.  The first time I helped her, was an hour before closing on a Thursday night about a month ago.  She came into Macehole's at about 9:00 pm and proceeded to try on 12 (not an exaggeration) Elizabeth Arden lipsticks, which I didn't even sanitize for her, because she just kept picking them up like a machine.  She was super annoying, and kept asking me if I thought they looked good on her. 'Bitch, do you have eyes?!'  I think deep down we know when something does, and does not look good on us.  She asked me what color I was wearing, and wanted to try it on.  So I showed her.  It was a deep pink shade, and she kept raving about how good it looked on me.  I told her she had lighter hair and skin so it would probably look good on her as well, as most pinks look good on people with light coloring.  She tried it on and stared at herself in the mirror for like 3 minutes, puckering her lips and reapplying it (I think she has cosmetic OCD).  She was then like, "Are you sure that's the color you have on?  It looks different on me."  "Yes, Ma'am, this is the color that I have on right now." "Hmm, it just (puckers lips into mirror) ... looks so different on me... do you like it?  Do you think it looks good?"...

She then proceeded to do this same stint with 10 other lip colors.  I was becoming thoroughly annoyed.  Especially since she kept staring at me and raving about my lip color. I hate nothing more than someone dissecting my face with their eyes for a prolonged period, it makes me feel so uncomfortable.  Finally she left, having bought nothing and left me with a mess of used tissues, lipsticks that needed sanitized and little patience remaining.

Anyhow, Friday afternoon this customer came back.  She looked like Hagrid (from Harry Potter) as she was wearing a long, fur coat, and she's a tall lady with a big frame.  The cosmetics area was fairly busy that day, and so we were all helping customers at counters other than our own (which is what you do out of courtesy if someone is swamped at their counter).  She was at Clarins, and the girl who works at Clarins was busy with another customer in the process of getting a makeover, so I went to ask her if she needed help.  Instead of answering the question I'd asked, she stared at me, and said "I know you!  You've helped me before.  Is that the same color lipstick you had on last time?"  I replied, "yes, it is."  And then the girl who works the Clarin's counter came over to help her, so I walked away.

Apparently the woman, who I will call 'Hagrid,' from this point forth, made a 'WTF' face at the girl who works at the adjacent Lancome counter, and then turned to another customer and said I was "awfully rude to her."  And to that I say, WTF?!  I have never been rude to a customer in my life, even when they were a cunt to me, I have held my tongue until they walked away.  I cannot believe someone called me rude!  I'm only rude to my family! The audacity of that bitch!  She then went on to try on every cream, cosmetic, and lotion at the Clarins counter, all while staring at herself in the mirror, and walked away about 45 minutes later, having bought (you guessed it) NOTHING.

I was shocked with horror when the lady who works at Estee Lauder said that Hagrid had called me rude.  Apparently she told the Estee Lauder lady she had complimented my lipstick and I didn't even say thank you.  She was rude in that instead of answering my question, "Can I help you find anything today?," she said "Are you wearing the same color lipstick you were last time?"  1) That's a question, not a compliment and does not warrant a 'thank you.'  2) I answered her question with a 'yes' reply 3) The girl who works that counter was freed up and came over to further assist her, so I went back to my own counter, as is protocol.

Sadly, she was not the only rude customer I encountered that day.  Later on, Clinique counter was especially busy and as there was only one person working there that day, I went over to help some waiting customers.  There were four women, in pairs of two.  I helped the person who was there first, first.  And While I located the product she wanted, I asked the other waiting person, what I could get for her.  She told me she wanted the moisture surge night cream.  I had to ask the lady who works at the Clinique counter where to find the cream, and once I had, I told the customer I would ring her out just as soon as I had rung out the previous customer (who once again to reiterate, was there first).  Apparently she thought I wasn't helping her fast enough, or thought she was entitled to priority over the other customer and got all pissy.  "I'll get it somewhere else!" she practically screamed, and stormed off.

WTF.  Why are people so rude?  NEVER in my life have I been rude to a store associate who was helping me.  And it wasn't just me being overly sensitive, because when I was done ringing out the shoppers at clinique, I walked back over to my counter and the girl who works at Clarins was like "I saw that.  What was that about?" in reference to the angry customer.  I was like, "apparently she thought I should help her before the other lady, even though she was second in line."  Bitches are so rude and disrespectful.  Have they never worked a retail job before?  Obviously not.

Other things that piss me off working at the cosmetic counter:  when people tap on the glass while I'm bent down getting out a product.  It makes me feel like a lizard in a terrarium must when dumb cunts tap on their glass.  Excuse me, I'm getting what you asked for momentarily, there is absolutely no need for you to tap on the glass motioning to the product you have already verbally asked me to get you.  FUCKING RUDE.  I also hate customers who don't use 'please' and 'thank yous' and speak in harsh, abrupt answers.  I hate customers who say "I want this" while pointing to a product before I've even finished asking them 'what can I help you with?'  These customers were clearly never taught manners, or never received spankings or firm talking-tos from their parents when they were rude little pigs as children.  I will bring my children up to be the most respectful, polite kids ever some day as a result of seeing grown adults who never learned manners.

My terrible day was made slightly better when I helped a woman and her daughter at the Shiseido counter later that evening.  She told me I was "the nicest person she had ever had help her in the cosmetics section."  I said, 'that's funny, and I very much appreciate that because just today someone called me rude and I don't even know why."  hahaha.  She told me I was a sweetheart and they must have been having a bad day.  I genuinely thanked her for this compliment, and it slightly mended my bruised ego.  However, later that night, I dreamed I punched this kid from high school that I was once good friends with repeatedly.  I think it might be because i went to bed still feeling angry from the day's events.  

Now that I've gone off on a tangent on rude customers, I'd like to list some other things that piss me off (it's good to get it all out, even if it's only in a blog that no one will read):

1.  People posting food pictures on facebook.  I've done that once, and I feel bad about it to this day.  No one give's a fuck what you're eating.  No one really gives a fuck about what you've cooked, unless it's a goddamn culinary masterpiece, served artfully.  Do bitches think they're good cooks because they can make meatloaf or pasta with veggies thrown in?  I see these pictures and I want to slap a ho.  Sure, people can be proud of what they've cooked, especially if they're novices in the kitchen, or normally can't cook for shit.  But do you really need to snap a pic of every meal and post it for the world to see?  You're sloppily plated frozen corn, fried chicken cutlet, and side of rice-a-roni isn't impressing anyone.

2.  Stupid scene kids and 'hipsters' posting photos of themselves blowing out smoke from a cigarette/hooka/cigar/joint.  You look so cool... you're probably the first person who's ever blown smoke sexily out of your mouth! You're so innovative and creative for artistically photographing smoke coming out of your facial orifice!  You should get an award.  retarded.  Especially when you don't smoke and you're doing it for the purpose of a photo that will get about 80 'likes' from other dumb hipsters.

I think that's it.  I need to go take a bath to calm my frazzled nerves now.