In Case You Don’t Know

Cigarettes, Daniel Merriweather

I wasn’t gonna drink tonight, then I went to a bar
I wasn’t gonna start that fight, but they pushed me way too far
And oooooh, but you would never know
You would never know

I wasn’t gonna watch the game, now I’m shouting at the ball
I checked my phone and saw your name, so I musta missed your call
I wasn’t gonna place that bet, but they said he’d take the fall
Now my clothes smell like cigarettes, but I don’t smoke at all

Oooohh
But you would never know
Oooooh, but you would never know

Oooooh when I was out havin’ fun, I was outta line
When I thought I was stayin’ young I was stayin’ out in my mind
Life is like an old cassette that you can’t rewind
Now my clothes smell like cigarettes, and it happens all the time

Oooooh, but you would never know
Oooohhhh, but you would never know

Love and sex and TV sets, we never left my room
I used to speak in no regrets, maybe I spoke too soon
I thought that I did my best, now I know that isn’t true
‘Cos my clothes smell like cigarettes and they used to smell like you

I thought that I did my best, now I know that isn’t true
‘Cos my clothes smell like cigarettes, and they used to smell like you

Roundup

Boston has no sanitary drinking water; public assumes the apocalypse has arrived.

Tickets are sold out for Emerson’s senior formal…what am I supposed to do if I can’t prove myself at college prom?

Emily Has No (Seeks) Job

“if we ever meet again” by Timbaland ft. Katy Perry is Wicked Catchy

Milinski family arrives in Boston 4.14…here is the Real Apocalypse

And the winner is…

Oh my god. Ohmygod, me? Are you sure? Oh wow, thank you so much! I never in a million years expected to be bestowed with such an honor…it’s a little bit overwhelming…I’m sorry….whew! Sorry. I’d like to thank so many people…the Big Man…couldn’t have done it without you, I am truly blessed. Oh, wow. God I am so grateful for this. Ugh, thank you. All of you. You are the real heroes! Goodnight.

at the bahz

A few weeks ago I was at a bar with my friend, Emma, and some other people she knew. It was one of those random nights where you’re sitting at home and someone asks you if you want to go out. Those are the best, spontaneous nights like that.

I like to think I’m pretty sufficient at Being A Girl At A Bar; that is, getting the occasional free drink purchased for me. The truth is, though, I’m not very good at all. I remember when I came of age and started going out, all my girl friends told me how easy it would be to not have to pay for anything. I had my doubts. I was right to. The thing that is supposedly “sooooo easy” is a subject I have been failing for a solid year. I think I’m just awkward. I’m hardly ever the “let me get your attention from across the room” type of girl, and when I do make eye contact with a guy either my guard flies up (he looks like an asshole) or I assume he’s looking at someone else. That’s just how it goes.

Anyway, suffice it to say that I still get pretty giddy when someone does approach me when I’m out, whether I get a drink or not. And so, on the dance floor at the Purple Shamrock with Emma, enjoying my Friday night, I was pleasantly surprised when a girl came up to me and said, “My friend thinks your cute and wants to dance with you.”

“Who is he?” I asked, craning my neck and making a futile attempt to discern anybody with dark and drunken eyes. She grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction she’d come from. “This is Alex,” she said, when we’d reached a tall, gangly male.

I was immediately disappointed. Not by his looks, mind you – tall and gangly is something I actually enjoy in a guy. I was a little bummed out, though, because this kid was clearly gay. I don’t even remember what he looked like, I just knew, and then when I spoke my suspicions were confirmed. He asked my name then made a face like “My friend I guess told you I wanted to dance with you so should we go dance, I guess” and we went back to where I had left Emma. Her eyes widened, and then she began to giggle hysterically as Alex and I started to dance.

Dance is probably the wrong word. What Alex did was push his crotch into the middle of my back, which is even less enjoyable than it sounds. It was erotic in no way. The rest of his body stayed pretty much stationary, from what I could tell. I guess maybe someone had told him how to interact with a girl on a dance floor, but the only part he remembered was “make sure she knows where your penis is.” It wasn’t creepy or gross (not like this was doing anything for him).  Just sad, and yeah, terribly awkward.

After the song ended I turned to him. “Thanks?” I asked. He walked away. “That guy was gay,” Emma said into my ear.

I paid for all my drinks that night. I feel like this story is exemplary of what a tiger I am when I go out.

the week in other people’s words to me

Are you kidding me? That’s intense. I can’t wait to see you, stop spending money. I’m so angry at you. I can’t believe you. Are you drunk on wine again? I’m done. I’m sorry. I’m proud of you. You’re crazy. You’re a lifesaver. We’ll call you. What’s wrong with you? Good idea. You’re a mess. Don’t forget me? Ima tell you one time. We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry I’ll be there soon. I love you. You alive over there? Now I feel really fucking stupid. Liar. You have to do this. I have some bad news. Credit or debit? Spare change? Can I get you another? I feel the same way. You can’t drink coffee in here. Ohmygod. Did you eat dinner yet? Not Enough Value. One splenda or two? How are those edits coming? Hi, this is your mother, please call me back. Para continuar en espagnol prima numero uno. Your concern is very important to us. Did you go out with a bang?

Jorbz

(Anyone?)

So I don’t have much interesting to say. I promise I tried.

I’ve spent tonight applying for jobs and internships in Boston for this summer, because after this weekend I will be super unemployed. It’s disheartening. I know this isn’t what you’re supposed to do, but every application I fill out, every cover letter I write, all I can think of is the many people who are so much more qualified than I. It seems kind of pointless, but I do it anyway because everyone else is, and dear God I cannot be unemployed.

Anyway,  just filled out one of those ridiculous, 50+ question applications for a big business (Marriott International, to be specific). What a waste of time.

“A guest approaches you upset, they’ve found their room to be dirty. What do you do?” Well, clever creators of this online application process, I certainly wouldn’t point them in the direction of the next closest hotel, or tell them to shut up, or give them the name of the housekeeping staff member to yell at (no seriously, these are all choices).

This question, part of the “personal experience” set, most amused me:

In your past job(s), describe the way your perfomance has been evaluated:
1) On my ability to complete tasks and fulfill responsibilities, as it is usually evaluated in life.
2) On my ability to complete tasks and fulfill responsibilities, as it is sometimes evaluated in life.
3) On other areas, as it is usually evaluated in life.
4) On other areas, as it is sometimes evaluated in life.

…

First of all, do those levels even make sense? Sometimes vs. usually? Which one is the program wanting you to choose? Also, who in their right mind would pick “other areas” as what they were evaluated on? That’s admitting “yes, I had sex with my boss(es), and I was pretty good too, wanna find out for yourself?”

I wondered while completing some of the questions how stupid one would have to be to screw this up. And yet, after finishing the application, I realize I in no way expect to be called for an interview. Stupid online applications.

excerpt, 4.8.10

INT. APARTMENT, NIGHT
EMMA and EMILY are sitting on the couch in Emily’s apartment. They are watching nothing on the television, because Emily’s cable has been shut off. Instead they read magazines and feel guilty about the fact that it apparently takes 30 minutes of jogging to burn off five peeps. Two glasses of wine sit on the table in front of them.

Emma gets up from the couch, puts on her shoes, gets ready to leave. Emily rises also.

EMILY

I’m actually going to walk you out, it’s recycling night.

Emily moves into the kitchen and returns with GARBAGE BAGS.

EMMA

Need help?

EMILY

Yeah, if you could grab one.

Emma takes hold of a white trash bag. It clinks loudly.

EMMA

So, is this just all wine bottles?

EMILY

…No.

Emily lifts her bags, which also make the sound of glass hitting glass.

EMILY (cont.)

Half are Mary’s!

EMMA (skeptically)

How long has it been since you took out your recycling?

EMILY

‘Bout three weeks.

INT. HALLWAY, NIGHT
The girls enter. In the tiny apartment hallway sits a large, broken DRESSER, leaning about 50 degrees to the left. Its drawers are stacked in a pile next to it. This must be some sort of fire hazard, to have so much junk in a hallway like this. It is a good thing the landlord never comes up to this floor. Emma eyes the trash. It is recycling night.

EMMA

Do you want to try to get this…?

EMILY

Noooo.

Trash bags clinking furiously, they begin descending the stairs.

Jesus!

I found him in the subway today.

Or rather, he found me. His followers, anyway. I was waiting for the T at Haymarket, slightly sweaty from the walk there; trying to regain composure in the dark, damp, sweaty tunnel isn’t an easy task. Because I’ve lived in a city for four years, I immediately became aware that the people standing around me were too close. A girl was on my right, hovering uncomfortably for some minutes when a young man appeared on my left.

“I’m Jeremy,” he said, “and this is Sarah.”

This is it. This is what a mugging is, I thought, hugging my bag closer. I’m ready for you, fuckers. I’ve been ready for years.

“We’re all followers of Jesus,” Jeremy said, showing a smile of weirdly white teeth and gesturing to the group of young people on the platform, who I’d assumed weren’t together. They smiled at me in unison. “Do you have a relationship with Him?”

I’m kind of ashamed to admit that I smirked, but if they really were doing what they said they were, they must be used to this reaction by now. “I’m uh…I’m on my way to class.”

“What’s your name?” asked Jeremy, putting out his hand. I took it.

“Amanda.”

“Hi Amanda. Have you accepted Jesus and renounced your sins?”

“…I’m on my way to class.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I go to church occasionally and here are the details of my faith” didn’t seem appropriate to blurt to a stranger. I guess I hoped this would deter them. I was wrong.

“What do you study?” Jeremy asked kindly.

“Writing.”

“What sort?”

In keeping with the lie that I had given as my name, I tried to play off it. “Journalism,” I replied, which is the one kind of writing I’ve never dabbled in. This guy wouldn’t give up though. Poor Sarah just stood there, hardly carrying her weight at all.

“What kind of relationship do you have with Jesus?” asked Jeremy.

“A good one.” I like to think this is true. It probably sounded fake, but like I said, I wasn’t about to pour the details of my faith out to this creepy fuck.

“Do you have anything you’d like us to pray for?” asked Sarah kindly.

“That the T comes soon?” I offered. I was feeling like a sincere asshole by this point.

They smiled. “Well, God bless you,” said Jeremy. They moved on to the next unsuspecting businessman on the platform.

They didn’t get on the T when it came. They stayed on the platform, and I think they really were just there to give their schpeel to anyone who wouldn’t punch them in the face.

Uh, sorry, I gave a thought heavenward as I boarded the train. I’m not all about talking about religion to people, let alone strangers, and yet I felt kinda bad. I don’t think I’m going to hell for being sort of rude to teenage Jesus Kids on a subway platform, but you never know.

In any case, I like to think my life was touched by a little bit of outside faith today. The kind that carries “you’re going to hell and here’s why” pamphlets with it, perhaps, but a kind of faith anyway. And that’s at least interesting. After years in the city I guess I’m due for my run in with a religious nut, and these folks weren’t even that bad. If that screaming Jamaican in the Common ever gets his hands on me I’ll know what hard times are for People Attacked By Jesus’ Followers.

and the world spins madly on.

lyrics by The Weepies, true enough that I had to post them.

Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you’d gone
and the world spins madly on

Everything that I said I’d do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on

I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I’m standing still

Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on

I thought of you and where you’d gone
And the world spins madly on.

And then it repeats…the world spins madly on. It does. We can’t control it, however hard we pretend to, we’re puppets. Sad and yet exhilarating. Freeing. I’ll take it. We all will? Aaaaaaaand…..action. Go. Spinning madly on.

Noise Complaint

EDIT: Just took the trash out (took me about 8 trips) and in the midst of it the guys from #4 came out.

“Hey I’m Max,” said one.

I’ve met you like twice already. “Hi. I’m Emily.”

“Did you guys get a call yesterday?”

“Noise complaint?”

“Yeah just to let you know that wasn’t us. The girls on 3.” They made the jerk off motion with their hand and walked away.

Sorry for blaming you, #4. You’re alright.