As I look back over my day, it seems as though it existed for the purpose of being absolutely no good, but actually... I'm really rather amused. Let's do a bit of a rundown:
-Got told by a Cuban immigrant that I looked pregnant.
-Was the only person in the store who didn't get asked whether I wanted to order lunch. After the person calling it in was off the phone, I said, "Nice of you to ask everyone."
She didn't get it, then got pissed off at me when I called her out. "I went around the whole store!"
"...and that's supposed to make me feel better, how?"
-GOT CENSORED.

Meh, I guess that's all. The looking pregnant thing really threw me because... I dunno, how does one even react to that, especially when trying to find where the giant thing of depends you have in your hands goes, on the shelf? I just sat it on the floor, waved, and said, "Well... good luck finding what you need."
Good thing they got rid of the mystery shopper program, haha.
I'll just go and... not eat for the rest of my life.

THIS IS AN URGENT MESSAGE TO ALL PEOPLE WHO CAST... THINGS.
I call shenanigans on this whole Blithe Spirit thing. Not because it's false, but because a.) I CAN'T SEE IT AND IT'S MY FAVORITE THING EVER and b.) HI, THANKS FOR CASTING CHRISTINE EBERSOLE. PISS ME OFF A LITTLE MORE.
I mean, I shed no tears over missing ALNM and Applause. I love ALNM, but... what can I say? I love Glynis Johns, and we fangirls must keep our fandoms separate. No, that's not a real reason at all. I just made that up because... I felt like it. I was just not in a state of being at the time to give a shit.
I mean, this would be like... like basically reviving Show Boat with Kathryn Grayson as Parthy. I would... die. Die. Die.
Harsh word.
I would die.
I was a big girl with grown up pants over missing that other stuff, but come ON! This is nonsense! YES THIS POST IS VERY ME-CENTRIC. GET OVER IT.
Can we pull in some more comparisons? OH I think we can.
This is like saying, "Hey Kayla, that lady that played Della Street is sitting over there, but we're going to chain you to this door so you can't say hi."
(Which is actually a good thing, because at the rate I'm going, I'd probably just... spill something on myself or her. Or say "HEY I LOVED YOU IN GIANT SPIDER INVASION.")
This is like, "Whoa! Ann Miller is still alive?!"
Alright, maybe that last one is a little more on the scale of that part of where I'm batshit but SERIOUSLY.
THROW ME A FUCKING BONE, NEW YORK CITY.
I SAY A LOT OF CURSE WORDS.
IT'S LIKE MISSING JANE POWELL IN BOUNCE, ONLY I ACTUALLY THINK THIS SHOW IS GOOD SO IT'S EVEN MORE UPSETTING.
THAT WAS JANE POWELL.
I KNOW, RIGHT? WHAT SORT OF ALIEN BEING WAS I WHEN THAT HAPPENED LIKE 4 HOURS FROM MY HOUSE?!
Now I'm just going off the deep end, so I'll go worry about other things that are less idiotic to throw fits about.
But oh, believe you me, a fit has been thrown. A fit of Lilli Vanessi proportions but minus that whole "I can hit high notes" thing.
SHITTETH HATH HITTETH THE FANETH.

I took a nap earlier, and had a dream that, after many years of not visiting, I went to see Nana again. My cousins were present, and Aunt Alice, but somehow, I couldn't talk to them. It wasn't that I was afraid to, it was that they merely kept passing me by. I unpacked my things, which included my DVD cases and some clothes, and then... then I just sat on a couch, surrounded by all of these people, yet no one looked at me. They were busy finding something on TV to watch. I looked down at the coffee table, and there sat two tapes, neither one mine- one labeled Greer Garson, and the other blank. I don't know when Nana sat down next to me, but as soon as I opened my mouth, trying to get them to notice me, I saw that she was right there. I picked up one tape and said, "My God, can't we see something decent? This thing is full of great stuff, or for God's sake, go back to the silly Perry Mason movie!"
I mean, it was all so ridiculous, the scenario, the everything. It all felt so blank, like I was removed from all of it, until she hugged me. You know how, when you're dreaming, you don't recall feeling anything? It happened, but then again, it didn't. This was... real. It felt so real, like she was the only one there in the room that saw me, and I was the only one seeing her. It felt like... as much of a failure I think I am because of the stupid and crazy things I get into... it felt like she was telling me she didn't care about all that. It felt like she was there just reassuring me that I'm alright. That she approves. That all the regrets I have for taking her so for granted while she was alive are nonsense.
In some funny way, I refuse to believe it was truly a dream. I know it sounds absolutely insane, but my mind has never conjured up something so intensely real before, in dreams. I wake up and think, "That was... mildly idiotic," but never have myself convinced that it happened. This time, this out of the blue thing comes along and I woke up and started bawling because I couldn't accept that some intangible force was not at work. And I still can't. I go for months without really thinking much about her, then I just get so emotional and remember that it's been 13 years. Now... she's been gone longer than I knew her, but I still have this deep need for her approval. I'd love to have my dad's, too, but... there's just this little girl in my mind that wants to call Nana, wants to see her again. I guess I don't realize, all the time, how much I miss her. And when I do... it just hurts. It's standing there, with her telling me not to cry all over again. I want to be calling her again, telling her what I did that day. And I don't want to be nervous about staying with her for a week. I don't know why I ever was, and it kills me now, wishing I could go back and have this one thing we'd bond over come along sooner. But in that dream, I felt like she's been with me all along, and doesn't care that I haven't finished college, doesn't care that I've made a few missteps. I felt like she was proud of me, just me, just slightly awkward, doesn't know where she's going next me.
I don't want to give that up.

A) People who have been tagged must write their answers on their blogs & replace any question that they dislike with a new question formulated by themselves.

B) Tag 8 people to do this quiz & those who are tagged cannot refuse.These people must state who they were tagged by & cannot tag the person whom they were tagged by. Continue this game by sending it to other people.

( I was watching this movie called Shark Swarm earlier... )

I tag you.

Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 30 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing.
Step 3: Strike through the songs when someone guesses both artist and track correctly.
Step 4: Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING!
Step 5: If you like the game, post your own!

( guess this mess! )

( MYRNA LOY )

lol.

Top 3 Filmography Meme

+ Pick your top 3 favorite actors/actresses (if you don't have a Top 3 or can't choose, just pick 3 favorites!)
+ Go to imdb.com
+ Copy and paste each full filmography from your Top 3
+ Bold each film/tv episode you've seen

( oh damn, wonder who i'll pick... )

that wasted plenty of time. :)

i'm sitting here, staring at the computer screen, wondering if my life can ever be the same. all i can think to say is, "oh della, you aren't gonna find any strawberry quick through that straw."

the end.

I think it's somewhat common knowledge that I have a love/hate relationship with the world of fan fiction. You can take characters you love to places that no one ever saw possible, and sometimes, that really works.
Sometimes, Della Street gets stabbed in an alleyway and SOMEHOW at the age of 60 can birth nine babies.
Anyway, that's my gripe of the day. Well, true to form, it's not my only gripe, but the only one that has that token of being completely unreasonable and having nothing to do with real life. The other "not real life" thing is more of a question. It has to do with why like 8 people on facebook are quoting Applause in their statuses at the moment. Seriously? Like... did something monumental, having to do with that show, happen in the last 12 hours? Is the Burt Reynolds Dinner Theatre mounting a new production, starring the one and only Valerie Harper?
Pretty sure we all know I tried to give that show a chance for like five minutes, but I just can't take it. Gutsy woman in the audience of Christine's Birdland concert, you are correct. It's a horrible show. I can't stand anything about it.
ALL ABOUT EVE =/= DANCING, FLAILING, WARBLING, GARBLING, OR OTHERWISE SOUNDING LIKE A WILD BOAR IN HEAT.
end topic.
In other altogether fascinating news, bizarro Angie Dickinson circa Dressed To Kill was actually NICE to me the other day. It was tearing me apart inside, knowing she would find she had the clap and die in an elevator.
True story.
Well, the keyboard's dusted, piano's tuned, and I'm off to make obscure characters spring to life in ways no one ever dreamed.

FLASH:
Sir Paul McCartney has reportedly been run out of an elite section of Long Island, known as the Hamptons. After driving across the country to return to the home of his current fling, he was met by a batallion of armed citizens, outraged by his mode of transportation and his lack of personal driver.
"We just couldn't bear our divine city being invaded by such filth," one resident was quoted. "Do you know what diseases fester on the toilets of bathrooms throughout the Midwest?"
The furor began early this week, when a small town in Illinois reported Sir Paul had been spotted at a Circle K. He was seen, in a photograph, giving the thumbs up, while surrounded by men dressed in various states of St. Louis Cardinals based attire.
His vehicle, a 1989 Ford Bronco, was stripped of its yellow entrance sticker, and subsequently searched for any signs of drug smuggling or other "Cardinal" gang activity. The Cardinal gangs are known far and wide for their abuse of the popular beverage "Bud Light," as they wreak havoc on the innocent fans of other baseball teams.
"So far, the only leads we have are McCartney's refusal to take a drug test, and sixteen empty styrofoam cups, in his back seat. There was a dried blue ring at the bottom of each, which has been sent to the lab for testing."
Also rumored, though still not official, is an animal smuggling operation. Chatter amongst the locals hinted that 52 cats, fleas, and cobwebs were found among the mysterious blue tinted beverage cups.
One bystander, subsequently beaten about the head with more than a dozen Prada bags, was overheard spouting the old rumor that this is nothing more than a mean, nasty Republican town.

Goddamn, do I get bored when Mario Kart pisses me off.

according to the local newspaper, paul mccartney may or may not have been in springfield on saturday. apparently he stopped at circle k for gas and a blue slushie. ok, the slushie part is fabrication of my own, but come on. he was driving a 1989 ford bronco with an access sticker to the hamptons on the bumper. that kind of class just screams "BLUE FUCKING SLUSHIE."
so does the irlpicproof:


either he's yelling, "yeah ladies! i'm the mastermind behind such classics as band on the run!" or "these bitches accosted me in the loo when i was trying to take the piss i've been holding since kansas city!"

well, it's quite obvious that things haven't changed much. i post sporadically about things that really don't matter.
no sense in changing a good thing, right?
last friday, i saw mamma mia. now, this is not, by any stretch of the imagination, profound, life altering material here. still, i find a small piece of my heart going out to the movie industry. i know, this is like bette davis saying, "oh well, joan crawford isn't so bad," but hear me out. i'm serious. for the first time in my life, i can proudly say that hollywood has proven that there is still room out there for mindlessly happy musicals that have no bearing on real life. their one purpose is to entertain, to make people laugh, to take them away from what's going on at home or at work. for a couple of hours, you get lost in daydreams, caught up in a fantasy world where all you have to do is wish hard enough, and your problems are solved. i hope that a few of you have seen sullivan's travels- it's just like that. people don't always need to see the violence and grit that goes on every day in the real world. sometimes, most times, they just need to laugh. sometimes, they just need something that makes them feel good.
maybe, someday, the world will see another swimming musical, lol.

in other news, i got a wii. i'm pretty obsessed with tennis. mostly because it yells DEUCE at me all the time and i giggle.

ps, when most people see babies, they're like, "OMG I WANT ONE/ANOTHER ONE!"

this is my reaction to baby corgis. and baby chocolate labs. but i mostly want the chocolate lab, so its registered name can be "one of these things is not like the other."
i used to want a german shepherd i could name "cake," until i saw the molly shannon movie where the german shepherd ate the wheelchair bound corgi. i was traumatized.

BUT ANYWAY LOOK AT THE BABY CORGI. I WANT ANOTHER ONE. I'M GONNA NAME HER IRENE, SO WHEN I TALK ABOUT WALTER AND IRENE, PEOPLE WILL THINK I'M TALKING ABOUT HOW GRANDMA AND GRANDPA SHIT IN THE FLOOR. j/k but she'd totally be named Irene.

i think i'll put my geek hat on and go see the x-files movie tomorrow night.

and no, it's not because Gillian Anderson totally looks like Jeanette MacDonald.

...wow, the images of an x-files musical starring Jeanette and Nelson that just splattered like a mud puddle coming full force at my brain after being hit by a bus were FANTASTIC. And I think "mud puddle/hit by a bus" does accurately describe it. that, and train wreck.

i shall be spending most of my day at the museum, however, delving once again into another train wreck known as the "do not eat before viewing" slides. can you imagine? i get so bored on my days off, now that i actually, you know, get up before the crack of 2 pm that i'm volunteering my time and my new scanner.

i think i'll name my new scanner "fingers mcgee." it's catchier than "cut-off-my-legs-and-call-me-shorty jones."

LOOK AT AND JOIN 618toastblvd

YOU WON'T REGRET IT, AND IF YOU DO, THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU.

There are things in life that one should not gloat about. One of the prime examples is the misfortune of others. You should not, for instance, laugh heartily when you find out that a former boss who you trusted for so long, only to be betrayed in the end, is probably losing her job.
Looming over this devlish smile I had this morning was the realization that the same thing could, very easily, happen to me. I realize how close it was to happening. If I had stayed at the museum, accepted some lot in life I was convinced I had to take, I would be in that boat right now. I'm a sort of mixed up mess when it comes to how I live my life. While I'm known for making decisions based on the long run, such as when a friend is trying to hook me up with another friend, and I say to myself, "Can I picture waking up next to this person in ten years and not regretting every moment of anime I've suffered through in the name of what was probably never love to begin with? DING No," I realize somewhere in my soul that everything is life is only temporary. I don't even have a slightly corny "except us" to add to that line, like our beloved Magnolia Ravenal. I suppose, though, if I did, and saw any sort of connection to her, I'd run for the hills from that "us" thing. No gamblers anonymous for me.
But back to the subject. Everything is temporary. I would imagine that I'm a jaded person, in some respects. So many friendships I saw lasting forever were temporary. So many jobs I saw as being careers were only temporary. So, I've developed this mantra that has really seen its prime over the past year. It's only temporary.
Maybe I'm protecting myself from hurt, this way, and I would imagine it could hurt some feelings, being known, though it isn't intended to. But it makes it so much easier to take some bumps and live through it, to see what tomorrow brings and shed another layer of shyness and foolhardy blind acceptance because of it. It makes it easier to speak my mind, to take any outcome and make something of it.
Starbucks, something I saw in August of 2004 as lasting forever, came to a final end last summer. It came to an end on Norma Shearer's birthday. So many strange and wonderful things happened to me last year (and some this year), on people's birthdays. Back then, they didn't seem so wonderful, but now, I know that there was some sort of symbolism. I'm a little off like that, seeing symbols that probably aren't there. My psyche had suffered beating after beating, and I took it, never in stride, always with enough bitterness to fuel a thousand pits of hellfires. It made me hate myself, distrust people, made me come to a conclusion that I could never bring about any sort of change. It silenced me in so many ways. And it's gone. And one person who dealt the cruelest of blows has met with a staggering blow of her own.
With Norma's birthday, I was free of the building. I was set free to rebuild myself. With Nana's birthday, today, I am free of the fear that karma does not affect anyone but myself. She was a true believer in fate, in being handed one's own ass by the very same people who you manipulated. Though this is not cause for celebration, as there are many lives affected, I still feel a small amount of vindication in a matter I had nothing to do with.
On July 29th, 2007, William Powell's birthday, I was given a choice. I could continue the life of bitterness, of putting up with ridiculous work hours in order to continue to try to stay shoulder to shoulder in the most asinine competition I ever managed to get myself mixed up in, or I could give both up, in the name of personal happiness. On Norma's birthday, I made my decision. On Greer Garson's birthday, September 29th, I realized I'd made the right one. My whole life, everything about it, from work to pastimes, had become so serious that I couldn't understand it.
I'm still young, and that joy I was supposed to be getting out of just living was a cutthroat competition of who could crawl the furthest up other people's asses.
Maybe it's selfish, but living day to day, just being a normal human being isn't so bad. I won't be the world's darling, but as of today, I've gotten father with the knowledge that it can all change at any moment, than I ever did when I had strictly planned "missions."
In both the ways in which I've gotten anywhere in my life, I did it just being myself and letting everything come as it may. I'm not about to write a self help book, but hey, it works for me.

my fellow livejournalians, i stand before you today to announce that deepdiscount.com is having a buy one get one free sale on criterion collection dvds.

you bet your sweet life i got sullivan's travels and the most dangerous game.

joel mccrea. tasty.

July 16th, 2008. A day that shall live in... well, I'll probably remember it on into next week, but after that, it's anyone's guess.
It was the beast known as truck day. Wednesday is the day where 950 boxes of crap get unloaded from a truck, and we hope on anything that at least 600 will not be damaged. Totes, beautiful totes, filled to the brim with soup cans, under which you will likely find bags of cheese crackers that have been crushed to the point of merely referring to them as "cheese meal."
It's like corn meal... but cheese.
Shut up, it's inventive. But I do not recommend making tiny biscuits out of it.
I did realize something stellar about our daytime cashier. When trying to sell our suggestive sell item of the month, little Wyler's drink packets, she becomes Lucy as the Vitameatavegamin girl.
Cue her, me, and the SIMS coordinator quoting the Vitameatavegamin commercial at each other for the rest of the day. "And it's so tasty, too!"
We have a Halloween costume theme, as well. TV characters! So far, we have Lucy, Ricky, Della Street (me, obvs.), and we tried talking the store manager into donning a sweater vest for either Mr. Rogers or Ward Cleaver. He just has that vibe.
The district photo fella stopped by for a visit, and to say he was not what I expected would be a few hundred dollars short of a few hundred dollars. DPS=/=fire breathing beast with six heads. This led to a terribly awkward ooshy gooshy moment where one of the assistant managers was trying to express emotion without expressing emotion. The basic gist is that they're happy I'm in the position. Yay for me.

So, happy Ginger Rogers' birthday, everyone. Throw one back for me. And I do mean a milkshake.