I am posting this because the xanga gods are forcing me to do so. I will add something else in the future - hope I didn't get anyone's hopes up.

Junk in My Trunk

Lately I’ve been clearing out everything for a garage sale.  I’m giving up my packrat ways because I’ve completely run out of space in my bedroom.  This happens when you’re 24 and still living at home. It explains why I have shelves built way over my head in my tiny 4’ X4’closet, my sweaters and art supplies stored in my bathroom, and a small would-be sock drawer dedicated to candles.  I’m going Spartan.  Actually, I thought I already had, but the truth is I just mastered condensing and rearranging stuff. 

It’s very deceptive because everything from my hording days is still hidden in little corners and crevices.  As I clean, I keep stumbling across little shoe boxes crammed full of junk that’s long-forgotten and far from missed.  Things like panda erasers,“notes” from Happy Staff Day in music class, and worksheets from ninth grade geometry.  I have greeting cards, pictures, and notes from people who now only exist on Facebook.  I found a slew of about 25 art trophies I won as a kid that fell apart when the glue melted.  I've tossed out trash bags full of stuff, keeping only a few mementoes and some of my most rockin’essays.  I hope one day my future children will look through my stuff and think I was just that dedicated to my studies, and they should be too.  In reality, I was usually a B+ student who typically scribbled out her homework at the last minute as the teacher was collecting it, and then would beg for an A at the end of the semester.  Shame… but I still consider that the least time-consuming way to go.  

I had a HUGE stack of magazines.  Some so old they instantly merited tossing– like the ones with covers featuring a smiley Nick and Jessica, and a glamorous Brittney Spears.  I obviously haven’t read magazines in a few years, so I decided to skim through.  Reading them brought back fits of insecurities and self-consciousness not felt since adolescence.  Especially the “what’s hot and what’s not ”pages.  All of a sudden I found myself looking at my red nails thinking “Is that color so 2006?  Pastels are all the rage now!”  Then the article on ill-worn headbands made me sad I’ve gone through life positioning mine incorrectly, when clearly I should push a headband forward to hold back my bangs.  Then my bangs!  Are they too long? Is my lipgloss sparkly and not shimmery? What about the article where the girl was celebrating her ENORMOUS bootie who at the end of the article declared she’s my height and only weighs fivepounds more? I felt like curling up in fetal position.

I tossed the magazines halfway through, figuring I have just accepted my old flaws and don’t need to find new ones. Then again, why do I feel like their fashion advice is valid when the adjacent article claims that the entire planet is going to run out of water in a few years?  Magazines are full of trendy,environmentalist propaganda.  There’s just something you can’t take seriously about quotes from “admirable” women telling how they’re saving the Earth by turning off the water when they brush their teeth.  Girl power unite! 

I’m still pulling stuff out of the attic. I hope to find my original Nintendo soon and that it will magically work more than 35% of the time.  I’m pondering what to do when I find my collection of 40+ Pound Puppies that are so engrained in my childhood I can’t stand the thought of parting.  I try to rationalize that giving them away will provide them with loving homes instead of the lonely attic.  Then I think that they aren’t alone - they’re stored in two huge trash bags having a party with all the other puppies and purries. Then I slap myself silly for treating inanimate objects as though they are alive.  Perhaps I will hang on to the first version I collected of each puppy/kitty because I was slightly obsessed and have up to five versions of the same Pound Puppy.  I also gave them all the incredibly original names like Spot (1-5), Sandy, Brownie, Blackie, Chip, Peach (1-5), Chocolate, Kitty, Snowball (1-5), and Keisha.  Yes, Keisha – I named her after the cool black girl at the bus stop, after all, she was in sixth grade.  I wonder if my Pound Puppies will be hurt when they realize I don’t remember all their names.  (slap!)    

Amazingly, I did find some stuff that was garage sale worthy.  Big-footed girls everywhere will be happy to buy my shoes (size 9.5 – 10).  I have clothes that cover about a 25 pound size range from various weight gains and losses.  Anyone want a backpack?  There’s something victorious about never having to use that again.  I'm taking applicants for Pound Puppy adoption.

I’m ready to start a new life with less distraction.  Go toss some stuff - it feels good!

THOUGHT OF THE DAY

Let's start a pool on when the next time I'll get around to posting will be. 

"No Mayo Please!"

Well, I got more responses than I anticipated (more than 0) so I will continue posting.  Lately I have tried the whole "mystery shopper" thing.  Maybe it's the free service I signed up with, maybe it's because they give the lame shops to the rookies, but it's not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.  I signed up for this one job where you go to McD's, walk in for a meal, order another at the drive through, fill out a survey and get two free meals and an extra $7.50.  Doesn't sound like a half bad deal, right? 

Problem - The survey is a huge pain in the wah-zoo.  It requires you to document times down to the second, such as when you joined the line, when your order was taken, when they took your money, and when you received your order.  (They have a physical description of me and the manager can verify on security cameras that I was there.)  Then, the survey proceeds to ask the most detailed, nit-picky questions ever.  You have to survey the outside of the restaurant - Is there any trash in the parking lot?  The bushes?  Are all the lights on the menu working?  Does the sound box look rusty?  You have to inspect the employees - Was their hair okay?  Were their hands clean?  Did they have a personal conversation in front of you?  What about the other two employees?  Give their name and their approximate gender, age, race, and bu uild.  You're required to go to the restroom as well (or give an incredibly detailed explanation about why they wouldn't let you in).  

On the inside of the restaurant, I checked out what kind of comment cards were available, and checked for dirt on the walls, floors, condiment bar, looked for overflowing trash cans, etc.  I was somewhat bummed because it was quite possibly the cleanest and most efficient McDonald's I had ever visited.  I had to order two sandwiches missing one of three specified condiments - one beef item from inside (I gave it to my Dad later, since I was required to go alone), and one chicken item at the drive through, as well as fries and drinks.  I had to inspect the bun for finger prints, the alignment of the meat and condiments, and analyze the temperature.  The employee failed to give me one or more napkins for each food item.  Shame, shame. 

Anyway, that's just the things that immediately come to mind, it was insanely complex, and the hardest $7.50 I ever made.  Well, probably more like $5.75 after taxes.  Not to mention I don't eat beef, and don't care much for their fries.  Doesn't look like I'll be rolling in the dough mystery shopping.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY

Two all beef patties... double... cheese... mustard... and apple pie!  Anyone know how that goes?