For anyone who hasn't noticed yet, I've listed the different stick-people illustrated stories in the right column of the blog under the title "Sticky Stories". Just click one and you'll go straight to it! The list will be updated whenever the post is an illustrated story. So if you've missed one somehow or you're just itching to read one over and over and over, now you can with no search hassles. It's all for your convenience, really, I'm trying to distract you from doing your work.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I'm Just NOT Waitress Material . . . . . . . . Part 3: THE UGLY
THE UGLY
Obviously I've been procrastinating on this one. Mostly because it's pretty embarrassing for me. So I'll make it as quick and painless as possible.
As a sophomore in college I was looking for a small job. Nothing fancy, just something to earn a few more dollars a week for spending money. Mid-September I thought I found the perfect one. Actually it was the perfect one. The commitment was for five hours every night until October 31st. I was hired as a spook in a haunted house.
This was an easy job. All I had to do was show up, find out which ghoul I was assigned to be and the make-up artists would do the rest! I was a cloaked spirit (this one was my personal favorite because you were supposed to be silent at all times and just follow people and hide in corners. I actually made several grown men scream out this way), I was a mummy that shot out of a coffin, I was a ghostly prisoner locked up in the cell of the living-dead (This one required a lot of screaming, and moaning. The owner liked to put me in this position the most because I was good at it. He even gave me a cash bonus a couple times!) and a few other ghosts or ghouls that don't really have any names.
Anyway, it was because of the cell of the living-dead that I found myself in the throws of embarrassment.
There were always two prisoners in the cell. I was in there often and usually put with the same guy. Now for the first couple of weeks there aren't many people who visit a haunted house, so we had lots of time to talk and pass the time away. You can probably see where this is going. He was about a year older than me and pretty cute from what I could see on his drivers license (that was the only way to show each other what we looked like - lucky for me my driver license picture was pretty good in those days).
On some of those slow nights half of the staff, being bored, somehow would get caught up in an impromptu game of sardines, hide and go seek, or tag. Our "haunting" grounds was a lazer tag arena turned haunted house, so there were lots of places to hide. I don't remember which game we were playing, but I was hiding one night and my cell partner stumbled across me and hid in the same place. We were laughing and snickering - and then he pulled me in for a kiss. (What?! Where did that come from?) Did I kiss him back? I don't know. Maybe.
The next night the owner called me into his office before "showtime" and had me sit. I thought "Cool, is he going to tell me about another bonus opportunity or that I'm an awesome Dracula?" Instead started he started with this. "Do you have something to tell me?" What? I clearly didn't know where he was going with this, total confusion until - I remembered the stolen kiss last night. So I just said "About what?" I'll spare you the utter details, but he went on to tell me that someone came to him last night and said they thought they witnessed some inappropriate activity. I went red and felt like the big spot light from the sky was shinning down on me. "Well, he kissed me." My boss waited. Then squinted his eyes and said "He kissed you. He didn't do this or this to you?" WHAT????? Now I'm red-hot. I had to clear my name! I explained to him the games and the kiss, but was SOOOO embarrassed that people were thinking otherwise.
After making sure there was going to be no more riff-raff in his Haunted House, which included double checking with me about what happened and then announcing to the whole staff that he knows all that goes on in his arena and there will be no "fooling around". (Which by then everyone knew what he was talking about through gossip in the work place - so MORE embarrassment for me during this little announcement since only he knew the true story). We went back to work that day, but I never saw my cell partner again.
There it's out and it's done. No more UGLY stories. Don't ask me anymore.
Obviously I've been procrastinating on this one. Mostly because it's pretty embarrassing for me. So I'll make it as quick and painless as possible.
As a sophomore in college I was looking for a small job. Nothing fancy, just something to earn a few more dollars a week for spending money. Mid-September I thought I found the perfect one. Actually it was the perfect one. The commitment was for five hours every night until October 31st. I was hired as a spook in a haunted house.
This was an easy job. All I had to do was show up, find out which ghoul I was assigned to be and the make-up artists would do the rest! I was a cloaked spirit (this one was my personal favorite because you were supposed to be silent at all times and just follow people and hide in corners. I actually made several grown men scream out this way), I was a mummy that shot out of a coffin, I was a ghostly prisoner locked up in the cell of the living-dead (This one required a lot of screaming, and moaning. The owner liked to put me in this position the most because I was good at it. He even gave me a cash bonus a couple times!) and a few other ghosts or ghouls that don't really have any names.
Anyway, it was because of the cell of the living-dead that I found myself in the throws of embarrassment.
There were always two prisoners in the cell. I was in there often and usually put with the same guy. Now for the first couple of weeks there aren't many people who visit a haunted house, so we had lots of time to talk and pass the time away. You can probably see where this is going. He was about a year older than me and pretty cute from what I could see on his drivers license (that was the only way to show each other what we looked like - lucky for me my driver license picture was pretty good in those days).
On some of those slow nights half of the staff, being bored, somehow would get caught up in an impromptu game of sardines, hide and go seek, or tag. Our "haunting" grounds was a lazer tag arena turned haunted house, so there were lots of places to hide. I don't remember which game we were playing, but I was hiding one night and my cell partner stumbled across me and hid in the same place. We were laughing and snickering - and then he pulled me in for a kiss. (What?! Where did that come from?) Did I kiss him back? I don't know. Maybe.
The next night the owner called me into his office before "showtime" and had me sit. I thought "Cool, is he going to tell me about another bonus opportunity or that I'm an awesome Dracula?" Instead started he started with this. "Do you have something to tell me?" What? I clearly didn't know where he was going with this, total confusion until - I remembered the stolen kiss last night. So I just said "About what?" I'll spare you the utter details, but he went on to tell me that someone came to him last night and said they thought they witnessed some inappropriate activity. I went red and felt like the big spot light from the sky was shinning down on me. "Well, he kissed me." My boss waited. Then squinted his eyes and said "He kissed you. He didn't do this or this to you?" WHAT????? Now I'm red-hot. I had to clear my name! I explained to him the games and the kiss, but was SOOOO embarrassed that people were thinking otherwise.
After making sure there was going to be no more riff-raff in his Haunted House, which included double checking with me about what happened and then announcing to the whole staff that he knows all that goes on in his arena and there will be no "fooling around". (Which by then everyone knew what he was talking about through gossip in the work place - so MORE embarrassment for me during this little announcement since only he knew the true story). We went back to work that day, but I never saw my cell partner again.
There it's out and it's done. No more UGLY stories. Don't ask me anymore.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
I'm Just NOT Waitress Material . . . . . . . . Part 2: THE BAD
THE BAD
So somewhere during my developmental stages in the uterus the chromosomal, double-helical, gene pool make-up of my body took a short cut and skipped a few stages and thus, I was born with two omitted abilities: 1. Growing an adult tooth on the right side of my mouth. (If it weren't for my tooth destroying dentist, I'd still have a gap there. That's a story for another day) and 2. The simple ability to be a waitress.
One summer while home from college, I felt super motivated to earn a lot of money and took on a second job while working at the zoo. I applied to and was hired by the Natural Cafe on State St. I loved the food and the kick-back atmosphere - it was perfect. Now, they don't start new hires on waitressing duty right away. You need to work toward that glorious goal and start off at the Smoothie Bar. What did I care! I didn't even know what a waitress was let alone what they did! A free meal every shift, the cooks loved me, the music was great, and I got to drink the "extra" if there was too much smoothie made. Not to mention interesting and entertaining people to talk to (one night I found myself serving Troy Aikman and some other guy who's name escapes me from the Dallas Cowboys at my little smoothie bar.) But, sometimes the cafe was short staffed and I'd help bring the food out to the tables. My first time doing this was on my third day there. I was taking different orders out to the tables on the front patio and each time I did, there was a table of 8 Brazilians who would wave over to me and and shout out "Numba 10? Numba 10??" And each time I'd have to tell them, "Uh, nope. Not yet!" and then big smile and hurry back in for the next order (At least I knew this much. Big Smiles can get you places.) Finally, their order came up and my manager said she would follow me out with the rest of the plates. As I approached the Brazilian table (and this is where my talent truly shines) I held out the loaded plates of food, or maybe projected the plates of food, or . . . I don't . . . know. I just remember heaving plates out over their heads and shouting "Hey, look it's number 10!!" And as my arms stopped extending, the plates stopped extending, but little salsa cups stay true to the law of physics and gravity and went off the plates. My Big Smile dropped off my face and ran away. All I saw were salsa cups - gone. As I looked at those plates held by my beautiful extended arms I thought, "Dang! Now I've made a salsa puddle on the floor and I'll have to get more." But, everyone was laughing! . . . "ok . . . laughing can be good. Wait. But, they're not laughing at meeeee." And as I pulled the plates away from my limited point of view, I saw it. Salsa drip, drip, dripping down her head, her face, and sliding down her neck. Then I heard my boss right behind me. "Oh @#&%".
Same cafe, different day, I went to pick up a business man's blueberry smoothies from his little table and . . . whooop! The slick layer of smoothie sweat (condensation) on the glass fooled me into thinking I had a good grip and goodness gracious that thing just lept into that poor man's lap and smothered itself all over his Italian designer Liquid Black pants and John Lobb shoes that cost him a small fortune (I know so, 'cause he told me so).
THE UGLY To be continued . . .
So somewhere during my developmental stages in the uterus the chromosomal, double-helical, gene pool make-up of my body took a short cut and skipped a few stages and thus, I was born with two omitted abilities: 1. Growing an adult tooth on the right side of my mouth. (If it weren't for my tooth destroying dentist, I'd still have a gap there. That's a story for another day) and 2. The simple ability to be a waitress.
One summer while home from college, I felt super motivated to earn a lot of money and took on a second job while working at the zoo. I applied to and was hired by the Natural Cafe on State St. I loved the food and the kick-back atmosphere - it was perfect. Now, they don't start new hires on waitressing duty right away. You need to work toward that glorious goal and start off at the Smoothie Bar. What did I care! I didn't even know what a waitress was let alone what they did! A free meal every shift, the cooks loved me, the music was great, and I got to drink the "extra" if there was too much smoothie made. Not to mention interesting and entertaining people to talk to (one night I found myself serving Troy Aikman and some other guy who's name escapes me from the Dallas Cowboys at my little smoothie bar.) But, sometimes the cafe was short staffed and I'd help bring the food out to the tables. My first time doing this was on my third day there. I was taking different orders out to the tables on the front patio and each time I did, there was a table of 8 Brazilians who would wave over to me and and shout out "Numba 10? Numba 10??" And each time I'd have to tell them, "Uh, nope. Not yet!" and then big smile and hurry back in for the next order (At least I knew this much. Big Smiles can get you places.) Finally, their order came up and my manager said she would follow me out with the rest of the plates. As I approached the Brazilian table (and this is where my talent truly shines) I held out the loaded plates of food, or maybe projected the plates of food, or . . . I don't . . . know. I just remember heaving plates out over their heads and shouting "Hey, look it's number 10!!" And as my arms stopped extending, the plates stopped extending, but little salsa cups stay true to the law of physics and gravity and went off the plates. My Big Smile dropped off my face and ran away. All I saw were salsa cups - gone. As I looked at those plates held by my beautiful extended arms I thought, "Dang! Now I've made a salsa puddle on the floor and I'll have to get more." But, everyone was laughing! . . . "ok . . . laughing can be good. Wait. But, they're not laughing at meeeee." And as I pulled the plates away from my limited point of view, I saw it. Salsa drip, drip, dripping down her head, her face, and sliding down her neck. Then I heard my boss right behind me. "Oh @#&%".
Same cafe, different day, I went to pick up a business man's blueberry smoothies from his little table and . . . whooop! The slick layer of smoothie sweat (condensation) on the glass fooled me into thinking I had a good grip and goodness gracious that thing just lept into that poor man's lap and smothered itself all over his Italian designer Liquid Black pants and John Lobb shoes that cost him a small fortune (I know so, 'cause he told me so).
THE UGLY To be continued . . .
Friday, January 30, 2009
I'm Just NOT Waitress Material . . . . . . . . Part 1: THE GOOD
For all you who've been wondering and asking . . . here's the update. We still have the little beasties. It's looking like we may need to throw out our beautiful couch (sob), a chair, mattress and bed spring - and of course move, again. But in one last effort to kill, kill, kill!!! (Sigh, that felt good.) I'm having the management hire a professional. So we'll see . . .
Now on to more enjoyable things. Currently I'm (still) looking for a job. (Wait, that's not enjoyable) I've gone around to companies and asked about employment, but some of them won't even give me an application (case in point: Home Depot, who a week after denying me an application, nationally announced the closing of many of their stores) and others tell me to fill it out on-line . . . and maybe they'll get back to me in 3 weeks. Sheeesh.
I was remembering some of my past careers and how much fun or how horrible they were. They could be categorized as The Good, The Bad, and The Ugggggly! (Seriously. One actually makes me cringe every time I remember it) So here's a couple that come to mind . . .
THE GOOD
The summer after my freshman year in college I applied at the Santa Barbara Zoo to be a camp counselor. I ended up loving the job so much that I continued doing it for three summers. There was nothing uncool about this job (and if it paid more than $8.50/hr I'd still be doing it, darn it). It was outside all day, a beach front view across the street, I hung out with 5-7 year olds (who say & do the funniest things!), there was lunch time and snack time, cool animals to look at all day, arts & crafts . . . I could just go on and on! One incident sticks out though. I was the all-knowing counselor and noticed a 5 year old kept sticking his finger up, and I mean way up, his nose. I finally turned to him and said "Nick, stop picking your nose." He'd pull his chubby little finger out and hide it behind his back. Minutes later there it was again - up his nose and digging around! Again I told him "Nick get your finger out of there or you'll give yourself a bloody nose!" to which he promptly replied, "But dairs a spidur in my nose." Riiight. The all-knowing counselor said "No, there isn't. Now hurry up or we'll be late for lunch." As we walked along the concrete path to where everyone else was sitting, little Nick sneezed hard . . . and there on the path was a little snot ball with eight legs. No Joke.
Another job I had was working at the Santa Barbara Wharf. This was back in the day before it had burned down and the Sea Center had to be rebuilt. The old Sea Center had an outdoor Touch Tank where we would show the public many different creatures the divers had brought up from the ocean floor below: small sharks and octopus, sea slugs, sea cucumbers, crabs, starfish, sunstars, scallops, etc. The public were not allowed to touch every thing, but as an employee I was. We were trained in how to handle the delicate and spiny. My favorite past time when things got too hot was handling the scallops (imagine a large clam) and making them spit water up from the tanks like a water gun! 80% of the time you hit your target.
THE BAD To Be Continued . . .
Now on to more enjoyable things. Currently I'm (still) looking for a job. (Wait, that's not enjoyable) I've gone around to companies and asked about employment, but some of them won't even give me an application (case in point: Home Depot, who a week after denying me an application, nationally announced the closing of many of their stores) and others tell me to fill it out on-line . . . and maybe they'll get back to me in 3 weeks. Sheeesh.
I was remembering some of my past careers and how much fun or how horrible they were. They could be categorized as The Good, The Bad, and The Ugggggly! (Seriously. One actually makes me cringe every time I remember it) So here's a couple that come to mind . . .
THE GOOD
The summer after my freshman year in college I applied at the Santa Barbara Zoo to be a camp counselor. I ended up loving the job so much that I continued doing it for three summers. There was nothing uncool about this job (and if it paid more than $8.50/hr I'd still be doing it, darn it). It was outside all day, a beach front view across the street, I hung out with 5-7 year olds (who say & do the funniest things!), there was lunch time and snack time, cool animals to look at all day, arts & crafts . . . I could just go on and on! One incident sticks out though. I was the all-knowing counselor and noticed a 5 year old kept sticking his finger up, and I mean way up, his nose. I finally turned to him and said "Nick, stop picking your nose." He'd pull his chubby little finger out and hide it behind his back. Minutes later there it was again - up his nose and digging around! Again I told him "Nick get your finger out of there or you'll give yourself a bloody nose!" to which he promptly replied, "But dairs a spidur in my nose." Riiight. The all-knowing counselor said "No, there isn't. Now hurry up or we'll be late for lunch." As we walked along the concrete path to where everyone else was sitting, little Nick sneezed hard . . . and there on the path was a little snot ball with eight legs. No Joke.
Another job I had was working at the Santa Barbara Wharf. This was back in the day before it had burned down and the Sea Center had to be rebuilt. The old Sea Center had an outdoor Touch Tank where we would show the public many different creatures the divers had brought up from the ocean floor below: small sharks and octopus, sea slugs, sea cucumbers, crabs, starfish, sunstars, scallops, etc. The public were not allowed to touch every thing, but as an employee I was. We were trained in how to handle the delicate and spiny. My favorite past time when things got too hot was handling the scallops (imagine a large clam) and making them spit water up from the tanks like a water gun! 80% of the time you hit your target.
THE BAD To Be Continued . . .
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Must Have: A Piece of Dolan Geiman
In an effort to find more home accents to follow my natural elements theme (water fountain made of rock, candle votives made of sticks, etc) I was perusing on Etsy and found the amazing artist Dolman Geiman featured on the homepage. A quick look at his work and I was very pleased. In reading a little further about the artist I became very impressed! Dolan Geiman is an artist very conscious of his surroundings and the planet we call home. He uses "rescued wood" for his collages as well as recycling many other items into his pieces of work. When it comes to being green, I try to do my part, but this artist is an inspiration! Here are a few of my favorites:
Lovebird Collection.
Rescued Wood Construction
Tree Panel.
Recycled paint, reclaimed wood
Rescued Wood Construction
Tree Panel.
Recycled paint, reclaimed wood
To see more of his collections or read his blog visit him here:
Dolan Geiman's Etsy Shop
Daily Dolan Geiman
Dolan Geiman's Etsy Shop
Daily Dolan Geiman
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Our Welcome to Colorado
I'm sitting here with a bowlful (yes a whole cereal bowl) of M&M's. I need to get back into blogging and the M&Ms were the only way to do it.
Okay, so we've lived here in Colorado for one and a half weeks and within the first 24 hours of being here . . . we had moved TWICE! And we're thinking about moving again.
Let me explain (and get ready for some grimacing). The first apartment smelled really bad of cigarette smoke from the carpet and walls. It wasn't until we had all boxes in the apartment from the moving van and some things unpacked onto shelves that we both had headaches and felt sick! (I later found out our neighbors would chain smoke all day and we had a connecting vent. Ugh.) We finally went to management and asked if they had another apartment available - we were willing to move all our stuff all over again, it was that bad. So, we moved to a different apartment room . . . 4 floors up. WHEW! Talk about a lot of work - Taking doors off hinges just to get the couch in and out (Twice); lugging the stupid couch up the 3 flights of stairs b/c it wouldn't fit into the elevator; unpacking, repacking, backpacking - Are there any unemployed Sherpas around here?
Well. Now that we're mostly settled and unpacked in our 2nd apartment, we can breathe much easier with only the occasional faint smell of second-hand smoke (as it turns out this complex is full of smokers. lovely. Really nice people though.)
BUT WAIT! The fun ain't over yet my friends!
3 days ago, a new challenge surfaced. I woke up that morning with about 10 little red bumps on my stomach and feet. Hm. That's weird. I checked Mike out - nothing. Throughout the morning he would tell me it was something I ate or touched that I'm allergic to. "But I'm not allergic to anything!" I proclaimed. (Now, you may not know this about me, but I've actually prided myself on the fact that whenever I went to the doctors I could unabashedly skip all the items of things people are allergic to and proudly check off the box that said "None". So please.)
My husband's reply: Well, you're getting old now and you're developing allergies.
Excuse me? Not, you're: 'older' or 'aging gracefully ' or 'gosh I love your hips and that new sparkle (grey) in your hair'. Old. Well, sweet husband, why don't you just drop me off at the nursing home just down the street and make sure to stop by for a visit once a week.
Anyway, I'm not allergic - I refuse to be.
The next day I woke up with - More Spots! Arms, stomach, legs, back, and feet at five times the amount. And now they're getting itchy! But still, my sweet husband insisted I was allergic to something . . . until he woke up with spots this morning. Ha! So what the heck with all the red dots? It got us thinking . . . was it the new detergent I used? Have we been eating something bad? (and my own personal runaway thought train . . . Am I really getting *gulp* OLD??). Slowly a thought came to us. We both remembered finding and killing little bugs that we found around in the bedroom and livingroom every once in awhile, but never though much about it - until today. We looked online, and whadduya know - they're famous! They're called bedbugs. Yup, we have bedbugs! Have you ever known anyone with bedbugs? Now you can say you do! I'd heard of them, but never seen them. And now I've decided I never wanted to.
So! We traded a smokey apartment for one that has blood-sucking, crawly, beady-eyed little vampires. Please click here and enjoy.
Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the . . .
Okay, so we've lived here in Colorado for one and a half weeks and within the first 24 hours of being here . . . we had moved TWICE! And we're thinking about moving again.
Let me explain (and get ready for some grimacing). The first apartment smelled really bad of cigarette smoke from the carpet and walls. It wasn't until we had all boxes in the apartment from the moving van and some things unpacked onto shelves that we both had headaches and felt sick! (I later found out our neighbors would chain smoke all day and we had a connecting vent. Ugh.) We finally went to management and asked if they had another apartment available - we were willing to move all our stuff all over again, it was that bad. So, we moved to a different apartment room . . . 4 floors up. WHEW! Talk about a lot of work - Taking doors off hinges just to get the couch in and out (Twice); lugging the stupid couch up the 3 flights of stairs b/c it wouldn't fit into the elevator; unpacking, repacking, backpacking - Are there any unemployed Sherpas around here?
Well. Now that we're mostly settled and unpacked in our 2nd apartment, we can breathe much easier with only the occasional faint smell of second-hand smoke (as it turns out this complex is full of smokers. lovely. Really nice people though.)
BUT WAIT! The fun ain't over yet my friends!
3 days ago, a new challenge surfaced. I woke up that morning with about 10 little red bumps on my stomach and feet. Hm. That's weird. I checked Mike out - nothing. Throughout the morning he would tell me it was something I ate or touched that I'm allergic to. "But I'm not allergic to anything!" I proclaimed. (Now, you may not know this about me, but I've actually prided myself on the fact that whenever I went to the doctors I could unabashedly skip all the items of things people are allergic to and proudly check off the box that said "None". So please.)
My husband's reply: Well, you're getting old now and you're developing allergies.
Excuse me? Not, you're: 'older' or 'aging gracefully ' or 'gosh I love your hips and that new sparkle (grey) in your hair'. Old. Well, sweet husband, why don't you just drop me off at the nursing home just down the street and make sure to stop by for a visit once a week.
Anyway, I'm not allergic - I refuse to be.
The next day I woke up with - More Spots! Arms, stomach, legs, back, and feet at five times the amount. And now they're getting itchy! But still, my sweet husband insisted I was allergic to something . . . until he woke up with spots this morning. Ha! So what the heck with all the red dots? It got us thinking . . . was it the new detergent I used? Have we been eating something bad? (and my own personal runaway thought train . . . Am I really getting *gulp* OLD??). Slowly a thought came to us. We both remembered finding and killing little bugs that we found around in the bedroom and livingroom every once in awhile, but never though much about it - until today. We looked online, and whadduya know - they're famous! They're called bedbugs. Yup, we have bedbugs! Have you ever known anyone with bedbugs? Now you can say you do! I'd heard of them, but never seen them. And now I've decided I never wanted to.
So! We traded a smokey apartment for one that has blood-sucking, crawly, beady-eyed little vampires. Please click here and enjoy.
Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the . . .
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Johnson Family Photos
I've been too busy to post (obviously) plus, my husband has been taking the computer to work with him lately so I haven't had the means anyway. We recently got our family pictures back from the wonderful and talented photographer . . . Mike's brother! It was fun getting together, especially since we will all be spread about for the holidays.
I can't resist that silly, grizzly man!
I LOVE YOU
I LOVE YOU
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