Sunday, October 31, 2010

Normal is Never Enough

October is my favorite month for a variety of reasons. Mainly my birthday, but also Halloween is my all time favorite holiday. Not only do we get to pretend to be people we aren't, we also get to dress up and gallivant around while eating candy from strangers, which is hardly ever acceptable.

This Halloween was certainly no disappointment. I decided to be my newest idol, Nicki Minaj, or so I thought. My outfit consisted of a pink wig, a set of glasses fully bedazzled so vision was completely impaired, my black shiny driving jacket and a tight black dress that I may or may not have actually worn to an event or two last year. Everyone thought I was Gaga. I think my lack of badonk was the cause of confusion, but I was willing to be confused for my previous idol, so I went with it.

Bmichelle, Bkristen and I rolled up to a party packed with graduated frat stars and expired beer. Apparently we inadvertently stumbled upon a frat house in the middle of Myers Park, but we were game because they had chili and pigs in a blanket.

A few hours later, we ended up at a bar/club downtown. I ended up ditching the wig because it was affecting my game and had a certain tussled, "drag queen" quality that I wasn't feeling anymore. It was time to hit the dance floor. Since I had recently become the 5th wheel to a 4 person party, I decided to mack on the most guido dude in view, who called himself "Lucas."

He seemed cute enough, maybe a little wrinkly, but his abs were intact and I was interested.

As we danced, I shouted my life story but when I asked for deets on his life, he declined. I asked him what he did for a living to which he replied "You know, I really don't want to talk about it, it's not exactly kosher"; when asked about his age he replied "You know, I thought we weren't going to talk about it"; when asked if I could go to the bathroom, he replied "Really? Are you still trying to talk about this?" Maybe he didn't actually hear me.

When we finally made it off the dance floor, I asked him again what he did for a living and told him that I wouldn't tell any narcs. He said, "I know you want to know, but I just don't think it's important. And don't worry, narcs don't deal with this kind of business." The only possible conclusion I came up with: he was a male gigolo, just like Deuce. Sick.

I quickly grabbed Bkristen and insisted on a swift departure, which luckily occurred. Though I had taken a bite from a stranger's hot dog on the street earlier in the night, I couldn't have been more grossed out by my choice of dance partner. There was not enough soap in the world to clean the gigolo's scent off my driving jacket, something between Axe and Abercrombie and Fitch's cologne. Ew.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

My Life Lately

I feel I offer my readers (all 3 of you), an explanation as to the recent decline in postings. Well, the title of my blog is not as accurate as it once was in that I am currently employed... though at a local Halloween store... and have been putting it to the grind for over a week now. In a constant effort to make some sort of money, I have demoted myself to true townie status as I don my orange smock.

Don't get me wrong, the people I'm working with are not that bad, though I do question my future as I'm only almost 23 and these people are 30+ and we have way too much in common. I'd much rather work at the local Banana Republic, they however, did not ever call me back... it makes me wonder what employers really think... Yet, there are some perks to working at a Halloween store. The main attraction to this job was to see what people are thinking when they buy horrendous costumes, and believe me, I have not been disappointed, especially while working the dressing rooms.

The fact that people are donning leotards and tutus in full intention of wearing it in public just cracks me up. I myself have worn some atrocious items in the past for shits and giggles, but the things these people say in the dressing room takes the cake. "I mean, if it's too short, just wear underwear" and "I really wanted to be the Candy Corn Witch to match with my daughter, but I know that after I start drinking, that outfit will not give in the belly" and similar comments keep me laughing on the inside all day long. I've found myself saying ridiculous things to people just to get them to buy that adult wizard costume and I don't even work on commission. It's just funny to see what people say in response.

Take this situation the other day. About 30 or more people come in and try 6+ outfits and don't buy a thing, so I got used to returning discarded items and listening to dressing room gossip. These two chicks, one of which was a spitting image of Snooki and the other who looked like a Nicole Ritchie wannabe came in and gathered 20 costumes each to try on. This turned into a fashion show that the fathers in the store were all too keen to enjoy while the more liberal mothers told them they needed to show more cleavage.

After 2 hours of walking around in the slutty nurse costumes, they didn't buy a thing and my male manager had to excuse himself for a "cigarette break." I felt ashamed but slightly sad that my 30% discount hasn't started yet and I therefore couldn't purchase anything yet either.

I feel like this job should supply me with more funny stories, but most of them just make me sad. You get some people that'll drop $100 for a single costume, then you get the down-and-out of luck ladies who can't buy their little boy a $5 vampire cape. It's a tangled web we weave as we prepare for a one day celebration of which decorations and costumes will tossed the following day.

My main observation has been that while millions complain of unemployment, I boast that you can be employed... if you're willing to do anything, even if it means telling the plus size chicas that their rippling rolls do not show in the medium size Perky Pin-Up costume.

Monday, October 4, 2010

A Regular Nine to Five...Sort Of

Since graduating, I've become really good friends with the job and childcare section of craigslist. I've visited every day, sometimes even twice a day in hopes of finding a gem of a job amid a sea of "at a glance" wanna-bes. Though I contemplated taking a man up on being his female companion to the movies, "events," and dinners (I'm still at a loss as to why this was listed under what I thought were legal jobs), I held out for a job that wouldn't land me in jail.

It wasn't until recently that craigslist and I became true friends with benefits. Usually, craigslist would call back me back and give false hopes of something more, but this time was different. This time would be magical, or as magical as a side hustle can be.

My first time having success with landing a job through craigslist proved to be more random than my typical way to make money. Instead of babysitting, giving blood, or not brushing my teeth, I would actually have set hours and have to clock in and out and perhaps even have to pay taxes. Yikes. Considering I haven't done such a thing in over 4 years, I wasn't sure if I could handle it, but the prospect of having some income was too good to pass up. However strange the job may be.

Ever heard of a traveling rack of clothes that goes from warehouse to warehouse of bulk items for 10 day stints? Yea, I hadn't either. All I could think was that there would be Blake Lively handing me her magical pants that America Ferrera had managed to squeeze into. Much to my dismay of not finding jeans that would in turn find me a husband, these traveling clothes were anything but, yet much more believable.

I signed up for the job having no clue what kind of clothes I'd be shoveling down peoples' throats in the hopes of a commission. As described most aptly by one girl close to my age as "moo-moos," the clothes job was gonna be a doozie, and not the good kind.

It was me manning three racks of fabulous granny clothes for the past 10 days and by manning it, I mean wandering around eating samples and trying to flatter people into purchasing some heinous fashion failures that old women love. Yes, I was selling clothing made of spandex and some synthetic known as acetate, something stretchy and apparently "ready for travel." When asked why I wasn't sporting the gear, I simply replied that I couldn't afford it... I thought about saying I was saving money for my three year old son with a bum leg, but the commission rate wasn't worth the pity buys.

However, I did convince a few people to buy the clothes, but due to the fact that the warehouse didn't usually sell clothes and thus lacked a dressing room and the fact that people wouldn't be able to exchange items after the roadshow left, and the simple fact they were uglier than sin on a stick, it was a hard sell.

Yet, I did get to eat many a meal off the sample carts that littered the warehouse floor day in and day out. I made friends with Bantwon who even saved me some taquitos after his shift was done. I'd say it was a successful hustle... or at least it will be once I get paid... if that happens.

Aside from the fact that I now have pink eye for the second time this year (though the circumstances leading to the infection are NOT the same as the first time, for those of you in the know), I felt more productive and I may even dabble into selling spa quality sheets at the same place.