so, um.

as you may or may not know, i have been unemployed for roughly seven months. at the start of this period, i was very desperately seeking work, then i got hired at tj maxx, made the mistake of telling them that i was going to need to be in germany over christmas, (because honesty is the best policy...) at which point they swiftly unhired me, and i decided i did not want to deal with this bullshit until 2009.

so, i finally got hired at a call center a few days ago and have already been reprimanded for my skirt length. now i am working 40 hours a week, my shift running from 3-midnight and going to school full time, the whipped topping on my shit pile. but i must persevere. mostly because i have been lazy enough for a long time. and because i have, like, negative dollars to my name.

i am going to be twenty this year. i realize that it's january 24th, which is a pretty random date to be considering my birthday, which is on june 15th, but this has for some reason just dawned on me and is sort of freaking me out. i need to get some shit done in that decade.

winning the lottery, for example, is at the top of my list.

i also hope to finally have my destined meeting with a rapper during this time in my life because i might not care anymore when i'm in my thirties, as i will be far too refined to keep up with rap music at that point.

i wonder if i will start to look older in my twenties, and if people will stop asking me if i'm still in high school. recently there have been a few occasions where i have been asked if i'm married, which is very confusing to me because i associate marriage with old age, but i suppose one only has to be 18. i also find it rather strange when i am posed this question since i am never with anyone who could possibly be a contender for a husband-type position, and i do not wear a wedding ring.

what's up, dream come true?

when i was a child, i watched dirty dancing, like, literally once a day. i was creepy and obsessed with a) dancing like jennifer grey or "baby," if you will and b) patrick swayze.

you can imagine my utter shock and delight at the discovery of this, the dirty dancing official workout:




i'm not really sure what sort of statistics they used to be able to proclaim dirty dancing as "the number one movie of all time!" but this kind of ridiculousness makes me fall more in love.

i only have one question: do they teach you how to do the legendary lift?

the perks of having a non-native english speaking parent.

i strolled into my living room to find my mom watching a show on the ever compelling lifetime network that featured a very blonde, very white trash woman discussing how she needed a manicure. and another woman wearing a very age-inappropriate, too-short denim skirt, who upon walking into the house sarcastically offered the fat man on the couch another beer.

me: what is this?
mom: wife swamp.

hate that i love you.

whoever is in control of rihanna's career is some kind of genius. she has steadily been benefitting from the same album for over a year and a half now. last summer she released a "deluxe" version of good girl gone bad with a whopping three new songs, all of which were released as singles, "take a bow" (the poor man's "irreplaceable"), "disturbia" (the catchiest song with the most nonsensical lyrics about being some sort of paranoid schizophrenic i have ever heard) and "if i never see your face again" (a mediocre song she did with maroon 5 that i have never listened to in its entirety).

then, at the end of november, she released "rehab" as a single. this was on the very first edition of the album. it has been at the disposal of the millions of people who bought/illegally downloaded that shit in 2007 for a minute. (this actually means that it's been around for a very long time. not a minute. i don't really get it. but i like to say it.) and still, somehow, it is getting a shit ton of rotation. even i for some reason like better now that it's a single. it is my jam, if you will. how is she doing this?

something else i don't understand about "rehab" is the video. it features a pantless rihanna awkwardly interacting with justin timberlake, whose appearance in the video is pretty unnecessary, even if he did write it. his only lines are, "now ladies gimme that.." and "uh, now gimme that." arguably, not the most vital parts of the song. and i just don't understand how being out in the desert on a car or in a trailer in a variety of outfits -- none of which involve pants, even though some of them should -- with the man you are pining for really correlates to having a post-break up meltdown. i mean, he's still there in the desert with her, and they are fondling each other on the hood of a car, so what is the problem? other than the whole thing being rather cringe-inducing.

here is the video. in case someone can explain to me the deeper meaning of it all:

i am pretty inspirational.

first, i would just like to share this incredibly sexy picture of my nearly 20-pound cat. just look at this stud:


i hate it when my attention is drawn to how terrible all the foods i love are for my body. i'm no dummy. i always know that when i am eating potato chips and tostitos salsa con queso, i am not really receiving any nutritional benefits, but when dr. oz is on oprah listing the five ingredients to avoid and the majority of them make up, like, everything that tastes good to me, it is really annoying. I JUST WANT TO LIVE, okay? with my refined sugars and high fructose corn syrup. maybe some day i will be able to afford to be one of those pretentious whole foods nazis. but i just can't help that i love processed foods. just like amy winehouse can't really help it that she is addicted to crack.

despite my unapologetic love for these substances of questionable nutritional value, i fear that someday this will all catch up with me and i will not only be large and in charge, but plagued by various health issues. i do not, however, see myself setting aside the flamin' hot cheetos within the foreseeable future. i hate this condition where i can acknowledge that there is obviously a problem, but i don't care enough to do anything about it. it is such a naggy feeling. like i have to justify to myself why i am entitled to be eating things with enriched flour.

another annoyance in life is girls with low self-esteem. i can let it slide if you are 11-16, because you are probably kind of ugly at this point in time (well, i was.) and you are just constantly thinking stupid, selfish, unnecessarily dramatic things about every aspect of your life. so go ahead, hate the way you look. you will realize how dumb you were during this age eventually. as a general rule, however, i feel like it's sort of disrespectful to constantly nitpick your appearance when you are anatomically normal and your body performs all of its required functions with ease. because there are people who are less fortunate and have, like, five faces with no eyes or mermaid legs. those afflictions, my friends, are things you can legitimately feel bad about.

people (typically in the media) like to say that the media's portrayal of women has set unrealistic expectations for what is considered beautiful. i won't dispute this claim. but i don't really think this is the media's fault. they only show what people want to see, and people want to see attractive people with nice bodies. women who get down on themselves for not looking as good as a victoria's secret model when clothed only in underwear should consider the following:

1)those women have been genetically blessed to be more attractive than everybody else. that is why they are paid millions of dollars for hanging out in their bras.

2)they photoshop those pictures, anyway. and while i'm sure that giselle bundchen looks pretty good naked in real life, she probably looks even better after those photos are edited.

3)those girls probably never get to eat carbs and have to exercise all the time. that sounds like such a fucking drag. i would say that if you are eating pasta and are not on a grueling workout schedule, you don't really have a right to complain about not having the trimmest of physiques. am i rite?

so, sure, one could argue that the portrayal of women in various types of media is unrealistic in comparison to what women actually look like. but for women to feel bad about themselves because they don't look like these women is just stupid. take a look around, i'm sure there is someone fatter/uglier than you in the real world. and i'm sure that there will always be someone skinnier/prettier. but more importantly, perhaps we should just be comfortable with the face and shape that was provided to us and focus on being grateful for all the nice things our bodies do for us on a constant basis.

amen.

Things I recall from my trip to Germany

There was this family that sat in front of us on the plane, and the mother and father were both german, yet their two children appeared to only speak English. I did not understand this. They were kind of obnoxious, but fucking adorable. I spent approximately twenty minutes making faces at this two-and-a-half-year-old child when he would stick his head above the seat to look at me. He seemed very entertained by this. But then a few hours into the flight his mood shifted, and he just cried loudly while we crossed the Atlantic. While in a restaurant with my family in Erlangen about a week later, I once again caught the attention of a toddler-aged boy who found it rather amusing to make eye contact with me, hide, then reappear and laugh joyously when i smiled at him. I am a big hit with the preschool fellas.

My uncles Michael and Peter picked us up from the airport. We got to the car and Michael promptly handed my father a beer. My mother inquired whether there were laws in germany about drinking in your car. He seemed shocked at this nonsense idea and said no. My mother explained that in America, this is not allowed. To which Michael replied, “Everything is not allowed in America."

I was under the impression that all Europeans hate Americans, but they actually pretty openly borrow from American culture. For example, slogans of soaps and banks and whatnot are often in English. And on MTV Germany, they play classic American television shows such as Parental Control and A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, using only German subtitles. While American television may bring the trashy, german television is all about the cheesy. Hannah Montana is on prime-time television and I'm pretty sure Miley Cyrus is going to take over the world.

Within my first few days there, my cousin took me to two bars. One was called Paunchy Cats (I don’t know what it is with germans and English names for things). I don’t know what the other one was called. Consuming alcohol in establishments erected for this purpose is expensive. I think I would rather get shitfaced at home and then go to one of these places. Or just not.

Most people in germany are pretty slender. But those who are noticeably overweight do not give a fuck. There was this one heavier girl in particular who danced like she was auditioning for the Elizabeth Berkley masterpiece Showgirls, which was just mildly entertaining until she took off her jacket to reveal a top that can best be described as a one-piece bathing suit. It did not provide her chest area with the coverage it needed. A few men seemed to like this and paid her much attention. So the fact that my cousin and her friends (and myself. Cough.) mocked her dance moves endlessly throughout the night probably wouldn’t have even bothered her had she realized this was happening. You go, girl.

The night definitely increased in its level of enjoyment as people became more intoxicated and started dancing more freely. The drunkest dancer of them was my cousin’s friend who was, in fact, completely sober. I loved her. However, watching people grind to such well-known party tunes as “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine or “Rape Me” by Nirvana is somewhat off-putting.

I have a question: Do people really meet persons of romantic interest in bars? These seems impossible. Drunk strangers, men in particular, have a tendency to be slightly repulsive, I have found. I was sober one night in this club that was probably filled beyond capacity (causing me to repeatedly ponder how fucked we all would be if there was a fire) and people were somewhat unpleasant and sweaty. Men kept unnecessarily touching me in passing. If people my cousin did not introduce me to attempted to speak to me, I just told them that I didn’t speak any German and they thankfully did not speak English well. One boy attempted to hold a conversation by asking me why I was here, and I told him I was there for vacation. He then said, “You are here for work?” and I said, “No. Vacation. The opposite of work.” And he said, “Vacation is the same as ‘holiday?’” and I said yes. I could tell he was trying really hard to uncover whatever English phrases he could remember, making this all the more awkward. I glanced around to find my cousin, who upon taking in the situation simply steered me away. I think if I was this courageous young man, I would have killed myself.

There were far too many people on the verge of making love in this club. One girl was completely gone at the time she first entered my view (I could tell because she was dancing while simultaneously and obliviously dumping her beer behind her head) and several hours later she was pretty literally eating/having her face eaten by a boy I am not sure if she was previously acquainted with. But I am sure that it was fucking gross to watch. It went on for far too long. I’m not so sure if I am cut out for drinking in public.

On a completely unrelated note, light switches in germany are sometimes located on the outside of rooms, especially bathrooms. So whenever excreting waste, I am paranoid that some immature soul is going to flip the switch at a most inconvenient time. On new years eve, while extremely and embarrassingly intoxicated, I accidentally turned off the light on some poor girl using the bathroom, leaving her in complete darkness. Proof that I sometimes worry about things that could actually happen to people.

I am now tired and therefore finished discussing my trip. Trust that the rest of my journey was alright. Although, I am fairly happy to be in my normal surroundings again.