the characters

since i put in my two weeks at target, i thought i would now take the time to talk about the “people” at target.

the guys
the guys fall into two groups, i’ve noticed. the younger guys who are there because they’re in school, they’re looking for other jobs, they’re just at another job. then the older guys, who tend to be there because they’re angry guys, weirdos, or losers. then there’s dave. we’ll talk about him later.

the girls
most of them seem to be butch. there’s a couple of older women in the group, with kids, so it seems to me they’re trying to save on childcare or something like that. the younger ones are kind of, hmm, odd, it seems. they’re not the girls who were class presidents or “most likely to be a model,” that’s for sure. they’re all kind of socially “off.”

then there’s the oddities.

this guy creeps me out. he wears the same pair of navy blue sweatpants to work every day. his ears stick out like no tomorrow. he has bad gas and doesn’t hide it. his glasses are like coke bottles.

TRUNCATED! ohnoeessss


dave reminds me of my dad – he’s an older guy and i’m not sure if he is working there because he’s bored or because he has to. he drives an astro van. how fitting. however, he does not take lunch in the van, like my dad. they don’t let you out of the store for lunch breaks (otherwise, he might). there’s a snotty girl who works there,

who ALWAYS picks on dave, and i just want to slap her. she’s self-centered, and never shuts up, “knows” everything (unlike shawn, who really does know everything), and i swear, she’s never had something not go her way. she’s probably an only child and i hate listening to her whiny voice. i tune it out whenever i work near her.

that’s my night crew. and in two weeks i’ll no longer be there! and my feet will become un-numb!! i’m very happy about this. ๐Ÿ™‚


i’ve decided to accept the job that i probably won’t have very long ๐Ÿ™‚ i am so sick of working overnights and hauling boxes and stocking shelves all night. at the end of the night, my feet are numb!

which spurred my and nate’s late-night decision to go to walmart and buy a wii. (coincidentally, my credit card company decided to raise my limit hugely, so i used that to buy it.) so nate is (supposedly) quitting WoW in march, after he bought the dumb expansion pack. also, he decided to buy guitar hero, so if anyone wants to have a video game haven, i guess my house is it. *sigh* wii, DDR, guitar hero, etc etc etc.

and in other good news, i AM getting a tax return this year! i was kind of worried that i wouldn’t because of all the freelance stuff i did, but we’re getting back a decent amount, with which i will pay back my parents and pay off one of nate’s school loans to free up $50/month. and i even get a decent rental property tax return! woohoo!! now, all i need is an AWESOME job (not just a job to hold me over) and to get out of this dump, and all will be good!

ah ha!

i highly recommend, for the ladies out there, to go get a professional bra fitting. seriously! your band is most likely too big and your cup too small. i went in and my band is actually a 38 (i think i was wearing anything from a 42-46), and let’s just say the cup size went up exponentially as the band size went down ( i dare not reveal here as i might be too embarrassed to let out my true size).

seirously, i think my boobs are the happiest ones on the planet right now.

so, go do that. seriously. you’ll have to flash the helpful lady who is fitting you, but if it means the happiest hooters in the land, it’s worth it. she’s probably seen tons of boobs anyway, so who cares. go to a good place; i went to nordstrom cuz i knew they had smaller bands with bigger cup sizes. maybe penney’s will work, but definitely nordstrom, bloomingdale’s, macy’s (maybe). and expect to pay a little more for an unusual bra size.

that’s my advice for the day.


first, you know i’ve been working overnights when ANY activity during the day gets me giddy. last week angie and i planned to go to old navy and eat cheese fries, and i was so excited i could barely sleep that morning. today nate and i are going to the MOA for some out-of-town adventure, and again i’m very excited. this is sad; i need to get off working overnights.

which may be soon! i got a job offer from merrill for a prepress technician (basically a graphic designer who prepares things for print). it would start at $13/hr, which isn’t as much as i was making at poopwest supply, but a TON more than i’m making now. BUT i am not entirely excited for the job. would it be extremely tacky if i took it and then continued looking for other jobs? what if i got the scsu job and then quit at merrill a month later? opinions please.

ok, i am off like a dirty turtle shirt.

ps- also, my friend melissa has a blind date! how exciting for her!


my goals for the next year:

1. get a good job that pays well and that i like
2. move out of my hovel and into a better apt. or rent a house for 6 months
3. buy a house
4. go on a honeymoon already (or have it planned)
5. have a christmas tree

now, that doesn’t seem too difficult, does it?

the job front

i have an interview tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. at merrill for a prepress position. i’m not sure how that will go, but we’ll see. might be an interim job til i find something better.

i also have a second interview at SPX in owatonna for a communications assistant manager thingy whatever. sounds like a not so great job, but it would be somehting. i’m preparing my cover letter to send to SCSU and i am having a heckuva time getting it together. i’m not sure what i should say and how i should say stuff. i hate writing cover letters!

meanwhile, target is there. not much to write home about that job. it’s monotonous busy-work. people need to quit buying so much crap!!

oh, and here’s a piece of advice. grocery shop at target. i’m not kidding. food is CHEAP there. i suppose it’s cheap at walmart too, but seriously, i found a thing for like $2 cheaper at target, and milk is about 40ยข cheaper, etc. etc. so, that’s my advice for the day. ๐Ÿ™‚

a bathroom review – or why i don't mind a portapotty

Some people are very particular about where they do their business. I know people who wouldn’t do dodo in a portapotty to save their life. But when it comes down to it, poo is poo, and the end result is always the same: a pile of crap you gotta put somewhere.

For summer 2003, my dad planned a canoe trip to commemorate the bicentennial of Lewis and Clark floating up the Missouri river and back down the Missouri river. He commissioned my uncles Jon and Greg, cousin Karl, and my brother to go with him. After much advice from me about packing (I had, at the point, been on one canoe trip in my life, which was one more than he), he gave in and let me come too.

Looking back, it wasn’t a bad trip, but it wasn’t the greatest. There was a profound lack of estrogen in the company, my bro was a whiny little bugger, and the whole thing kind of seemed haphazardly thrown together (my dad didn’t pack any bowls…. or spoons…and the menu for night two was stew). What was most inconvenient for me, however, was the lack of bathroom facilities. Guys have it easy most of the time. Girls do not.

Now, Iโ€™d been on trips where the plumbing hasn’t been the greatest. Numerous times Iโ€™ve been in campgrounds where there is a portapotty type wooden building with a deep hole and a place to plant your butt to do your business. Iโ€™ve been out in the boundary waters where the facilities are much more open – no building whatsoever around the deep hole in the ground, but there was a place to sit. At the times of these trips, they didn’t seem like the best facilities in which to do a necessary deed.

But this canoe trip was entirely different. For starters, we didn’t stop at pre-assigned stops where there might be a building with a hole and a place to sit and all that jazz. We decided to stop at random spots. For the most part, I held it as best I could. But inevitably, ya gotta pee.

First, let me tell you about a latrine. It is literally a hole in the ground that you dig with your collapsible shovel. You choose a spot that is far enough away and shielded so that people don’t have to listen to you or watch you, but close enough so that it is easy to get to. You dig maybe a foot and a half down, and a foot diameter hole. The ousted dirt goes right next to the hole and the shovel stuck in the pile of dirt so that once you’re finished doing your thing you can cover it up with dirt so the next person doesn’t have to look at it or smell it. Of course, this isn’t the easiest thing to do because you’d have to dump a lot of dirt in to cover it up, so it’s not to uncommon to smell or see past duties/doodies when your turn finally comes around. Also at the latrine site is a very large bottle of Purell. Once you’re done with your camping site, you shovel the rest of the dirt in the hole and pack it all down.

The first night was on an island with waist-high yellow mustard weeds all over that we had to stomp down to set up camp. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining, so this was easily done. That night, my cousin Karl was in charge of latrine duty.

It was quaint, and good for the first night. Karl found a low-lying branch that was perfect for sitting on during your time in the latrine, and there was even a handy little jutted out branch that the TP roll fit perfectly. That night was a learning experience as I sat on a bumply branchy woody piece of log to do my business. Not the most pleasant experience, but the better of the two nights we camped on the river.

The next night was also an island night. After a windy day of canoeing into the wind, a sudden storm popped up and we had to find a place to camp – fast. A little island with no trees was the choice. We camped on the lower part of the island, and the latrine for that night was on the upper part of the island, behind the biggest bush (well, the only bush). Charlie was on duty that night, and he was very proud of the fact that he found the bush.

Except…. this was literally only a hole in the ground with no convenience of braches. Everyone peed before the rain hit that late afternoon, but the next morning the latrine was a soggy, muddy mess. And I almost fell in.

There I was, in the best position I found for latrine business: one leg out of pants, squatting as best as possible, legs as far from the edges of the latrine as possible. In the mud, it was even worse. I had to keep my pants out of the mud and keep me out of the mud. As I finished my business, I suddenly lost balance. I could see my possibilities flash before my eyes. On the one hand, I could fall into muddy, poopy, icky latrine, or throw myself the opposite way onto my pants and into the large prickly bush covering me from peering eyes. So little time, such a harrowing decision. I chose the bush. My pants were all wet, and I lost my shoe for a moment, but I was unpoop-scathed.

That day as we floated down the final leg of our journey, we stopped for lunch at a designated rest stop on the river. And I have NEVER EVER been so thrilled to see a hole in the ground poop-station. There were walls. There was a door. There was…. an elevated place to sit. There was even a roll of toilet paper on a holder. For that moment in time, I think I reached nirvana. Sure, it was stinky. Sure, it was probably dirty as all get out. But it was bliss.

That night we reached the end of our river journey with flush toilets and a comfortable place to sleep, not to mention other people and a place of commerce to buy junk food. The next night I spend a half hour in the shower at my aunt and uncle’s house washing away the five days of grime that had built up on my skin. Besides a horrendous sunburn on my chin and thighs, I came away relatively happy that I went on the trip and with a greater understanding of the uses of sunblock.

Despite the scenes I witnessed, despite the ongoing bets of when my brother would give up and start crying and throw himself into the river, and despite my awesome blistering chin, when people asked me about the trip, the one story I inevitably told was how I averted the disaster of falling in the latrine. Then I explained that I will never, ever fear a portapotty.

the cat

every morning when nate gets up, my cat decides it’s time to take over my part of the bed. no, she can’t sleep on nate’s side, for some dumb reason. she jumps up on the tiny edge between me and the edge of the bed and continues to nuzzle me until i move over. and she takes up a lot of space, for a cat. what a weirdo.

good riddance 2006

and don’t come back!

the good
liz’s wedding
not having to work for 7 months

the bad
lemonade fair was a bust
as was my second craft fair
spent way too much money and time on frames and prints for said fairs

the ugly
got laid off
had much less money to live off of
moved to my current dump of a place
went to 15 interviews and got nada
was told i was a mediocre graphic designer and need to pursue other options

here’s to a hopefully much better 2007.