Posts Tagged ‘census training’

My Cat has Dandruff

In The Daily Drool on May 9, 2010 at 5:31 pm

Look, it’s Sunday, I just spent the weekend in Phoenix drinking margaritas in toast to my AMAZING mother, sitting by the pool, and eating tons of delicious food.  My brain is operating accordingly, so I’ll speak in bullet points… Ready?

  • It’s a good thing my parents don’t have a pool.  I’d be a burnt out piece of leather by the end of the summer and not a hint of paycheck or written material to show for it.  Just brown skin, BLONDE blonde hair, and a pickled liver.  Because you can’t sit by the pool all summer without margarits.  Lots and lots of margaritas.  Although, strictly between you and me?  If I find a good deal on a kiddie pool, I’m hauling it home…
  • Census-Porn is apparently a big search item on the interweb.  I’m not joking, I got a lot of hits on that one.  Let me just tell you though, it doesn’t pay to make-out in Census training.  Literally.  They got fired.  I guess maybe all you really do need is Love…  Or lust.  Or someone to let you stick your tongue in their mouth without any sense of discretion.
  • Speaking of the Census, it’s official – I’m official – we’re all friggin’ official!  Tomorrow I start knockin’… and counting… and paying bills!!!
  • A friend of mine used to be an apartment manager.  He recommended I don’t cash the mal-nourished security deposit check staring up at me from its envelope.  I’m tired, my bills are due, and I ain’t got any dough because these assholes are trying to rip me off.  But I sold my fridge.  Seriously, if you told me at graduation that two years later I’d be at the place where I was so broke I’d be thanking the Gods for helping me sell off my stuff in order to pay for my cell phone, I’d… well, I’d probably have cried and gone clamoring back to UCLA, begging to be let back in.  But here I am, comfortably nestled into my parent’s loving home, so at least there are no end to the tissue boxes and snacks to soothe my woes.
  • My cat has dandruff.  It’s BAD.  And she’s black.  Any tips?  Please?
  • Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers out there.  It’s a wicked world, and you keep us safe, help us grow, and love us even at our worst.  I wouldn’t be anywhere near the sane (semi-sane?) creative and bold person I consider myself to be, if it weren’t for my amazing, loving, strong and beautiful mother.  She is my inspiration and role model, and I can’t thank her enough.

Now, I think it’s time for a little vacation recovery nap…

Census Porn

In The Daily Drool on May 5, 2010 at 4:32 pm

Look, I’m all about the illusion of love-at-first-sight… it’s what so many good stories are made of.  But I don’t especially believe in it.  Sorry, all you effing insane crazy romantics, but it’s kind of a lot of caca (bullshit sounds better) that we writers fry up and dress in daisies to appease your hunger pains… you dig?

So, imagine my disgust at the little sex vulture in our training class:

DAY 1- Let’s call him “Dude” – Dude is annoying: lots to say, very little of it of any quality.  Repeat, ANNOYING.  Day 1 he chats it up with the cougar in the back.  I have fantasies of turning around and sealing their lips shut with my laser-eyes.  Instead, I stare straight ahead and try not to scream.

DAY 2- Wouldn’t you know it if Dude doesn’t plop his ass right down next to me?  In the front row?  Suffice to say I was NOT surprised when he got up and relocated at the break – I’m sure my “I find you repulsive” vibes were messing up his cool-cat bubble… He meandered over to another lady of chatting and giggling style.  I enjoyed the empty space.

DAY 3-  Dude and Chatty McGee spend the entire day canoodling over their census training booklets.  Dude spends the entire morning with his arm draped around the back of her chair while she reads off his manual and spends the morning rubbing his thigh (According to Poor Lovely Person Stuck Sitting Behind Them All Day)  PLPSSBTAD also informs me that from her vantage point said hand alternated between mid and high/upper thigh, and that they also “snuck” smooches in to their training/groping/grossing-the-rest-of-us-out session.

DAY 4- I’m forcasting a violent break-up in which she throws her government documents at him, delivering massive papercuts, and equates his junk to our standard issue No. 2 pencils.  Either that or they’re going to make a baby right there on the floor.  (gag)

Let me just say this – after 3 days of official government training, I’m duly impressed with my own ability to stomach sleaze.  I mean, these are adults… adults who apparently never matriculated beyond the gland stage.

I’ll just say it again… GAG.