Yes, you COULD care less

Sheesh. I don't understand how people always declare, "I could care less!" when they really want to say, "I couldn't care less." Hello? Do people find this distinction hard to remember or something? Just say the two different phrases out loud and think of what they mean!

There's this blog that I read. I never comment because I find it too emotionally taxing to become a commenter and become involved with the blog in a whole new way. The blogger was saying that she "could care less" about somebody, so I went through the whole registration process just to correct her. Then when I checked back to look at her new comments, I noticed that she deleted MY comment and revised her own.

I feel special. (And by "special" I really mean superior.) Oh man. I'm such a freaking know-it-all.

I am "never here"

My roommate "Zack" (not the one responsible for the tub) suddenly decided to move back home to Chicago... like, tomorrow. So in my boredom, I decided to search Craigslist for the ad that "Slater" would post to replace Zack. I just searched my neighborhood and found it pretty quickly. Mostly, I wanted to know how Slater would describe me in an ad to find a subletter.

The ad is pretty standard: exaggerated features, misleading photos, what have you*. But Slater's description of me?

"We currently have one other bedroom occupied by a girl who is never here."

Hm. I sort of wish it were more... juicy. Oh well!

:-)

* What an odd phrase. How the hell did that come to mean "etc."?

Living with people is annoying

Everybody knows this, but there are some obvious benefits to having roommates:

1. Cheaper rent (though the plus side of this is usually negated by less living space)

2. There's always somebody to notify someone else if you die... rather than having the stench of your decomposing body being noticed several days later by your neighbor's dog

[Yeah, I can't think of any other positives.]

Imagine waking up. Imagine needing to take a shower. Imagine walking into the sole bathroom in your apartment with a towel wrapped around your body and seeing this:



The question that immediately pops into your head is most likely: What the FUCK is that?

I don't know either. But I need to take a shower. BLURG!

I love my Cuddle Blanket

My sister's friends bought her a blanket from Brookstone for her last birthday. It's called a Cuddle Blanket made with "NapSoft" material. According to Brookstone (and I'm going to take their word since I don't know if anyone else would actually bother to confirm this), it's "the world's most touchable blanket."



My sister turns into Linus when she's at home. She carries this thing everywhere... checking her email, eating food, watching TV, etc. She urged me to buy one because she got mad at me that I fell asleep with it in front of the TV.

So today, I bought one. It is fantastic. I bought a light blue one to match Linus's blanket. (My sister's is brown.) It has that "new" smell since I haven't washed it yet, but it'll do for now.

Everybody should buy one. The end.

I don't like welchers

There is a woman with whom we do business. My dad actually built and set up the store (she managed it), and he used to actually own it until he sold it to her fully a few years ago. We've been doing business with her for over a decade until this past Monday when she decided that she didn't want to use our services anymore.

She told us on Monday to bring her final shipment the next day when she would give us payment for the final bill, which amounted to just over $1,500. She mysteriously wasn't there when our manager dropped off her stuff (at the same time he has always delivered the stuff) on Tuesday, and her son (shockingly) had no idea about the money and said they'd pay us the following day. We've never had payment issues with them before, so it wasn't a big deal... until now. Today, she informed our manager that in the past decade, so much of the stuff we'd given her was bad quality, and she'd lost a ton of money over the years by awarding credit to her clients. She told our manager that she'd tally up a final bill and deduct that amount from the $1,500 bill.

This, of course, is bullshit. I phoned her son personally to ask his side of the story since we'd always had a good relationship. After sputtering whatever lines that his mother was feeding him from two feet away (uh... this guy is in his 30's), he finally gave the phone to his mother who proceeded to tell me that I didn't understand how she and my dad did business and that I didn't know as much about business as she did. I plainly reminded her that my dad is out of the picture, and she is dealing with me now, and I want the $1,500 for the services that we rendered. She then proceeded to rebuke me for daring to speak to an adult this way (since I am a "child") and that I basically had no respect and was not listening to her. "Tell me," I said. "I'm listening!" She then told me that she was going to hang up on me, and she did.

After calling back twice... and being reprimanded twice and having my request to speak to her grown son refused... I at least had the satisfaction that I always knew this woman was a two-faced idiot. She obviously knows that she owes me $1,500 and is using the useless how-dare-you-disrespect-your-Korean-elder line to hide her embarrassment that she owes me money and that I am way younger than her.

If I were a 24-year-old white girl, she would never pull this excrement out of fear that I would tell everybody that she is shady. If I were a 13-year-old black boy, she would probably pay me right away out of fear that I would shoot her.

Bitch owes me $1,500. And I've lost all respect for her complete mama's-boy of a son.

:-)

PS - I'm mature.

Analysis of a rejection letter

There was a time not too long ago when I got pretty much everything that I worked to get. It seemed simple and was in line with the lie that middle-class society insisted was true: Work hard, and it'll pay off.

Then I reached the ugly age of 22 when I entered the real world and realized that this whole "working hard" theory is a stinkier than a fresh pile of horse manure on Central Park South. You need to be connected... well, actually your parents need to be connected. Mine, like most immigrant parents, are unconnected. (And respiratorily challenged.) I could go down the infantile road of bitching and whining, but I'm going to take the decidedly more mature (and definitely not masochistic) route of looking over past rejection letters and sharing them with the world for all to see.

(Note: I have four rejection letters that actually came in the post. These do not include the people with whom I've interviewed but never bothered to contact me later... situations which usually result in an awkward-but-necessary phone call that is made even though I already know the answer.)


FEBRUARY 6, 2006

"We appreciate your interest in being part of our team, as well as the time you spent talking with us. Unfortunately we will not be extending an offer to you... We wish you well in your pursuit of a position that makes full use of your skills, abilities, and experience."

Analysis -- This guy's intern couldn't be bothered with folding the letter into good thirds because he had to do one of those mini-folds to shove it into the envelope. Boo! I appreciate the fact that they were so upfront ("we will not be extending an offer to you") but did they REALLY have to do that snide "makes full use of your skills, abilities, and experience"? Uh. Screw you.


MARCH 1, 2006

"Upon careful consideration, we have decided to offer the position of Production Editorial Assistant to another candidate. However, I will keep your resume on file for 30 days... I wish you success in your job search."

Analysis -- No backhanded compliments. Very upfront rejection. I think this is my favorite. Everyone should follow this company's example.


APRIL 11, 2006

"It was a difficult decision, but unfortunately we have decided to pursue a candidate whose background more closely matches our position requirements. As we assess our needs for future opportunities, we will review your qualifications again."

Analysis -- Eh. Everybody knows that this whole "we will review your qualifications again" is total excrement, but this isn't so bad. Close second behind the previous letter.


MAY 10, 2006

"The resume you submitted via [a current employee] has been referred to me. While your background and experience are impressive, unfortunately, at this specific time we do not have any openings that match your qualifications. We will certainly keep your resume on file for possible future openings."

Analysis -- Why do companies keep telling you reassuringly that they'll keep your resume on file? Is that supposed to make me feel better? "Woo, they rejected me, but my resume is sitting there, i.e. crumpled somewhere in yesterday's recycling."

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In conclusion, this post accomplished nothing besides making me sound like a big baby. :-) This is Day Three of my sabbatical. I need plans...

I spent three-plus hours waiting for Stephen Colbert

...and I've never seen an episode of The Colbert Report. Actually, I've never even seen a full episode of The Daily Show.

So yeah. I'm on a sabbatical from work since work sucks. Today was my first day of relative freedom and being outside while the sun is still out. I decide to leave my apartment to enjoy the quick-setting sun... which I do for the approximately three minutes that it takes for me to walk to the subway. I was going to go to Barnes and Noble on 66th Street to drink overpriced Starbucks and read magazines for free (an activity in which I partake maybe three or four times a week since I'm single and bored), but since the subway skipped that stop, I made the executive decision to go instead to Borders on 59th to drink overpriced Dean and DeLuca and read magazines for free.

There's a sign that announces that Stephen Colbert is coming at eight o'clock to sign his book. "Cool," I think. "Too bad I don't watch his show." It's still four-something. I skim through a few weeklies. I'm bored. New monthlies have yet to arrive. It's five. I wonder what I could possibly do for the rest of the day. "Fuck it," I say. I buy I Am America and two other books because Borders is having some promotion. And I wait on line.

From 5:25 to 8-something, I waited. For some guy whose show I don't watch and his staff of writers to scribble their illegible signatures into my hardcover book! HARDCOVER! I listened to the trombone-playing Juilliard sophomore in front of me mack on the blonde NYU Law first-year and recent UF-Gainesville grad in front of him. I left the building at 8:35. I sort of wanted to follow Juilliard and NYU because I was curious if they were going to get a drink or something (oh wait, Juilliard is prob under 21) but I figured that'd be creepy so I just went home.

I told Lucy. She was like, "You waited three hours for someone you don't like? I wouldn't wait three hours for somebody that I did like!"

Yeah, so that's what I did today.