The Phone Call!

Jingle, Jangle!

The phone's ringing. Usually it's your mom calling to remind you to put the dishes in the dishwasher, but for once it's not. It's THE CALL. The call you've been waiting for, the call you've been springing up from the coach like a rabbit on steroids every time your phone rings. It's the call from that job. Not a job but THE job.

THE Call of Desire 

For every job hunt, there's always one application that you fill out, hoping, because for some reason it's just better. Better pay, better location, better uniform, but somehow better. It's the one you  pray to whatever god(s) you want that the boss see's something in your application or at least sees your application. Maybe, just maybe, your application won't end up on the floor being used as a doormat or stuffed in a drawer next to the paperclips. And when it lands in the hands of that boss with a phone in hand, it just might be your lucky night. But after a good interview your only hope is to get the call.

The Pace Maker

You can pace around the house, your apartment, your mothers apartment, your box, as much as you like. You can keep an eye on that cell phone day and night with it obviously set on earth shatteringly loud just in case you get into a freak accident involving saving a turtle from being smashed on the road but this heroic act   causes hearing damage that would have made it impossible for you to answer your phone but thankfully you have it set to earth shattering frequency so that phone call was received.  But in the end, it won't ring until it rings.

"Hello" (Please don't say anything stupid!)

Hello, can be a terrifying word. Running around crazy, like a chicken with it's head cut off when your phone rings is somehow suppose to result in a calming "Hellooo". Whether it does or not is another story but that first conversation with your new boss is terrifying.

In the span of one sentence a employer can simply say
 "We really liked what you brought to the interview and we would really like to hire you."

 But it that one sentence the other line is thinking.
 "Oh my god.I'm so nervous. I can't understand what he's saying. Does he have an accent? Maybe, I missed something important. Oh my god, I'm so nervous. Where is that damn pen and paper I had sitting right next to the phone for when this situation happened? I'm still nervous. Why am I still sitting in my pajamas it's almost noon. That's stupid it doesn't matter he can't see me. I'm still so nervous I can't think straight. OH MY GOD! He just offered me a job!"



How can phones have so many apps, so many features but when it comes down to that call, it doesn't matter if your sitting on a stool by your grandma's phone on the kitchen wall with the cord strung around your hand or on an iPhone in coffee shop, there's no way to take out those nerves. 

What would Batman do? A moment freaking out about finishing college.

Three signs you're freaking out about life after college.

1. Any plans that are more than 12 months in advanced don't exist

2. In your head GRE stands for Great Road Exits.

3. Facebook has become a possible interrogation center. Friends and family must be monitored. Questions? There are no questions at least nothing in the future that doesn't involve drinks, shopping, or ice cream. 

Having it all figured out, it's what we all want. What we all pretend to have but really, who does? Those  graduation gowns, they terrify me... more than going shoe shopping at Walmart, or running a marathon in a bad fitting sports bra.  That black graduation gown it's like a black hole, who knows what's going to happen on the other side?

Grad School? A Job? An Apartment?

Or living with my parents for an indefinite time while working at Pizza Hut?

That's a huge range of options. And it's terrifying. What happens if one tiny thing messes everything up? What then? Say your transcripts are sent late and the grad school you wanted didn't get them in time? Then what?

The year before graduation is a waiting year. It's a year of prep. Preparing. For what? For the rest of your life or at least it feels like that.

When there's time to think about it. A year worth of time.  Maybe it's too much? Maybe all that prep time is just freak out time? I personally, don't need a year dedicated to freaking out. It seems so easy, so clear cut, for someone who's not going through it. But it's not. I wish it was. It's kind of like if Batman had to pick out a new batman suit and had a whole year to do it. Who will he be? Will he change it to red and gold or maybe not change it at all? What suit will he put on? And how many times will he be looking in the closet freaking out over which suit represents him?

I wish I was Batman. Maybe picking out a suit would be easier than picking out a life after graduation?

$10 Dining or Dishwasher Refining?

There are two kinds of people that walk into restaurants those with three different ways to pay and those with only $10 in their pockets. The majority of the time I'm chilling with those in option number two. Whether going out to lunch with a few friends or having drinks to celebrate a birthday it involves money. Your thinking duh of course it involves money, but it involves friends and your friendship with them as well.  You can't let them down but you can't let your pocket book down either.

And so here I am with $10 in my pocket walking into a sit down restaurant. First I'm thinking, man is this stupid of me they don't serve cheese casadia's with a free appetizer of chips and salsa here! What am I thinking?

 I'm thinking. This place is fun, nice and I want to go out with friends, treat myself, you know? I work hard, I try hard, is it really so much to want to go out to lunch with a friend?

Sadly no matter what pep talk I have with me and my besties (me, myself, and I) I will still only have $10 when it comes down to it. And so I decided I can have it all or at least I can try with my 4 simple steps for savory, satisfaction.

1. Plan ahead If you can plan ahead. (I know it's practically impossible to plan ahead for these things but if you can, good job, your doing better than me.) Go online. See if you can find coupons for the restaurant, www.retailmenot.com is a great place to start. If your not embarrassed about being kind of "momish" you can always bring a coupon book with you in your purse or the car. If you get lucky there also might be a menu outside of the restaurant. That comes in handy if you have never been to the restaurant before and don't know how much everything cost. That way you don't have to fake talking to your mother on the phone about your cat that just got hit by a car and frantically run out of the restaurant before the waiter comes to take your order.   
2. Get acquainted with the menu So now that you are committed to going to this restaurant. You need to know that menu like the cop that arrested Al Capone, inside, outside, everything from the laces on his shoes, to the taxes he never paid. That means you need to read everything. You have to know everything that is included in the meal. Are the fries separate? Is substituting a fruit cup instead of fries going to add another 99 cents onto your tab? Is water free or bottled?
3. Order with Wiggle Room Don't order a $10 hamburger when you only have $10 dollars. There are always other factors. Remember you need to tip the server and really, come on, don't skimp on the tip. They are making under minimum wage don't be a....yeah you know what. Also tax it's always a "Oh yeah I forgot about that," moment. Well you have had over 20 years to get used to the fact that we have taxes that magically appear like Dumbledore's phoenix. So expect the unexpected people and save some money to pay food taxes. Also beverages are usually not priced on the menu but most Coke and Pepsi products are between $1.50 and $2.75 so leave some room for a drink or just get a water if you don't want to chance it. In other words step 3 means don't be stupid and leave room for the wiggles (Not the Disney T.V show.)
4. Laugh and have Fun! Stop sweating over it. You already ordered and no one likes eating with sweaty people at the table so enjoy because you just might be washing dishes in the back later. Just kidding! Good Luck and may the dollars be with you!

Entry level jobs = nonexistent

Rainy Day... Desserts?

Rainy Days. I sleep enough as it is. You could call it my beauty sleep but that would be pretty generous, really, it's lazy sleep but there is something about rainy days that justifies sleeping around all day. Not like "sleeping around" although no one would complain about that either. We'll besides those people, but I highly doubt they are reading my blog so... Anyway I just don't understand it. On a sunny day I actually feel bad about watching a movie or two or more (I don't have a job or anything give me a break) but on a rainy day... We'll maybe this would be better explained in an epic, short, skit.

 

The Rainy Day Skit

ME: (Talking to myself... it's really not that uncommon. People talk to themselves all the time. For example, when they pick out yogurt. Which flavor do I want cherry, orange cream or strawberry shortcake? Just FYI Yoplait Yogurt! Strawberry shortcake yogurt doesn't actually taste like strawberry shortcake! So no thank you Yoplait I don't want to do a swapportunit!. Sorry I just needed to get that off my chest back to the skit  ) Good Morning World! With a sexy yawn (pff who looks sexy in the morning! Really.) It's such a beautiful day. My siblings are awake, the vacuum is running, my dog wants to go outside, and all my clothes are in the wash! I just feel so alive! (Pulling back the curtain.)

ME:Oh!
But it's raining. We'll I...I I guess. I'll have to watch T.V and bake cholesterol filled desserts for the entire day. I can't go to my zumba class in the rain! I just might melt! I'm no witch but sometimes more of mmmhhhh. But that just might be close enough!

(Walking down stairs for breakfast.)

Dad: We'll we can't cut the grass. It's raining
Mom:  Jess would you like to help me make chocolate eclairs?
Brothers: Where are they? That was a stupid question. They are probably playing video games. It is raining out.

And so movies are watched, desserts are made and my dog takes a nap. And if the sun was out none of that really would be happening. Raining days are mother natures version of a siesta and a shower for the homeless all in one.

The Interview

Interviewing for a job is like playing dress up on Halloween. The ultimate question is which costume will get you more candy? Which outfit looks more fit in ready? Is it the pinstriped pencil skirt or the black pants? Should you go for a businessy, white, button down blouse or have a sexy V- neck? Would they pay you more if you wore glasses or contacts? Should your jewelry say I have an edgy side or I come from a family with old money? Should you go for seductress, red, lips or a beachy, carefree, shine? Every tiny aspect of your outfit is under high scrutiny. And the sad thing is I just don't know. Does it matter?

A good interview is never a biography of your life, it's never the REAL YOU, that is making an appearance, instead it's like a bag of Gardettos (Those delicious chip thingys!) it's a combo, a mix between what they want to hear, what you have done and what you have to offer. The whole goal is to build a valuable relationship as fast as possible. You have to be the tasty, salty, little, brown chips in the Gardetto bag. You have to be so valuable that eventually you get your own bag and thus the job. But to get there you have to weed through, the prezals, what they want, the curly cruchy things, what they need at that exact moment, and the little cruchy things that look like bread loaves, how you can connect to them. Until they find that those brown, little, salty, chips, what you have to offer is so good that they can't say no.

But pretending you are a part of a bag of Gardetto chips doesn't help every job hunter out and so I have some other advise that might help instead. No one goes into an interview and answers the questions exactly the same as the interview before. Why? Well first of all, we are not robots and therefore remembering exactly what we said isn't the easiest for most people in stressful situations. But more important we don't want to say the exact same things. Every question we want to answer differently because we want the twist, not the lemon or lime twist, but the twist on our story. We bend every answer in an attempt to try to fit the mold of the company or the job. Sometimes we don't even know we do it. But just wanting the job makes our answers just a bit less truthful and a little bit more hopeful.

Doubtful? We'll for example
 If your interviewing for a job as a bartender at a biker bar you wouldn't wear a suit and tie and talk about your degree in English Literature.

Or if you wanted the office assistant job in a law firm, your not going to wear a strapless shirt to show off the tree frog you have tattooed on your shoulder and mention your favorite old job as a lifeguard.

If you interviewed for a job working in a library, your not going to put in your contacts and glue on giant fake  eyelashes or use your sorority girlfriends as your only references.

If you wanted a job in lawn care your not going to talk about being the president of the honors society and constantly bring up your degree in physics.

Sometimes it feels so trivial but it's true first impressions matter. But do they matter enough for an employer to by pass your resume or credentials and hire you on the spot, just because of the way you look or act?

Road Trip

Road trips in college are a usually spontaneous thing. Cars are packed full of friends and random clothing, music blasting out the open windows and someone spilling the gory details about their date with Frankenstein the night before.

Road trips with parents are more like living in the movie a Griswold Family Vacation.Stressful, frustrating  and you never know what's going to happen. But at the same time they are so perfectly organized that you have no idea why every step must be planed out. It's like meetings in the show The Office. It sounds like a good idea so planed and organized but then Andy rolls in a cheese cart with Michael hiding underneath  the Gouda and all hell breaks loose.

The Prep 

College: In college there really is no prep. Road trips are planed in a week and sometimes it's not even a for sure until the night before. Suitcases are packed anywhere from the night before to five minutes before you leave.

At Home: With mom and dad road trips are planed usually over a month in advance. Bags must be packed at the latest a night before. The gas tank must be filled, the ATM must be visited  everyone must go to the bathroom before leaving, notes will be written to the dog sitter or anyone that is not coming with and multiple times the question of,  "do you have everything?" will be asked.

Getting There

College: In college usually hunting down the friend with the GPS is the best way to go about your road trip. Especially, the ones with the fun accents! The man with the British accent is my favorite. Requiring that someone has a smart phone with good service is also a good idea in case you get stuck in a rut but now a days most people have smart phones so that's easy to find. And then you are off!

At Home: When we go on family road trips we have enough maps that we could lead an army into battle, in unknown territory, without WiFi or cellphone signals, or even knowing where the local McDonalds is. We have maps from map quest labeled, highlighted, and stapled (which actually comes in handy sometimes and is very organized) an atlas, (I think just in case we decide to go find the lost city of Atlantis.) And a GPS system, that requires undisturbed attention, meaning no radio, no books on tape, (sorry mom Janet Evanovich is going to have to wait)  and no cellphone calls unless it's in regard to our destination. (But really I don't want them listening to my phone calls anyway so this isn't a big problem.)

Food

College: If it's a long road trip we will grab whatever is in the cupboard and literally throw it in the back seat along with anything that isn't an alcoholic beverage that has a cap. And then we will drive until someone says "I'm kinda hungry. Is anyone else hungry?" 99% of the time someone else is hungry to and so we stop at the nearest fast food restaurant, which most times is found under the restaurant finder in the GPS.  

At Home: I have no idea how my mom does it but she always has food. She always has a mini cooler full of waters and sodas. And then there's at least one gallon Ziploc bag full of sandwich bags filled with cereal or crackers, or fruit, or lolly pops (because chocolate melts in the car). Then there are usually boxes of granola bars or Twizzlers (because they don't melt either) or something. Meals are always at a certain time. So no one ever has to ask, between 11:30am and 12:30pm for lunch and 5:00 to 6:00 for dinner. 

Road trips are different. That's a good word for it. Different. In the end both ways get you there. With the parents you could probably survive an apocalypse and with college ways your setting yourself up for more of a PG-13 Hangover experience without the tiger. Drive on!

I scream! For...money.

Ice cream.  I wanted to buy an ice cream cone. It was the 80th anniversary of a local ice cream shop and me and my two brothers were going to go get 80 cent cones because that's a good deal! Simple enough right? So that's what... $2.40 plus tax?

But... I don't have it.
I've been out of work for over 3 weeks and I don't have $2.40 to buy ice cream cones.

I have to ask my mother for $2.40 to buy ice cream cones which is simply embarrassing. When you are used to having a job, having a steady income that comes in every few weeks or so, it is maddening to have to ask your parents for a measly $2.40. It drives me crazy knowing that I don't have it!  Nothing stays private because you have to rely on the funds of your parents to keep the lifestyle you are used to. Everything is laid out in the open like a fat, old, naked, man tanning on the beach. It is so ungodly frustrating to have to ask for every single thing!

Your birth control, your credit card bills, your phone bill, your coffee, your rent, your make-up, your zit remover. EVERYTHING. It's no longer yours. It's just so sad and frustrating, and it just makes me want to scream! I want my lifestyle to be back in my hands, controlled by me, funded by me. But what choice do I have? I don't have one really.

And so I asked for money because I don't know, is it that I have no shame, that I'm desperate, or that I've just given in to mommy and daddy taking care of me again? I don't know. But we got ice cream. Or tried.

Anyway the three of us equipped with $3 head out for ice cream. And what would you know? Ding! My handy little gas light pops on and says, "feed me, feed me."

3 People were feed that day. The car was not one. (Which I bet you concluded since the car was not a person but give me some slack here, Einstein.) But tomorrow is a new day. A new day that starts off broker than the last but a little bit sweeter.

Goldilocks and her "Virgin Hair"

Hair. It's so important that they named a musical after it. It's like your own personal Picasso. It tells your personality, your style, and gives people a glimpse into that sexy soul of yours, that looks great when it's blowing in the wind, or has an industrial fan and a team of super stylists. But when hair goes bad. Shit hits the fan.

Blonde. I wanted to go blonde not bleach blonde or a brown blonde but  like a sexy, sophisticated, hot champagne blonde. We'll instead  of champagne sexy, I got Goldilocks without the locks. My hair looks like Goldilocks rebelled against her three bears and went to the beach swapping her locks for waves but keeping her golden color alive and kicking.

Ridiculous isn't it! I went to a salon to get my hair dyed professionally, since it was the first time I have ever dyed my hair in my life. So I wanted to do it right. I brought in two pictures, one with the color I wanted and   one with the cut. We'll my "virgin hair" as my stylist called it. I kinda understand, since my hair's never been dyed before but wouldn't you think there would be a better phrase than that!

Virgin hair! Who came up with that phrase? And who wants their hair to be defined like that. Do women now have to worry about multiple parts of there bodies being virgins? What's next virgin calves? Is the new phrase I don't want to die with my calves still being virgins? My hair could have gone on dates. It could have had mass make out sessions in the back of it's boyfriends pick up truck. It could have run the bases. It could have spent every weekend doing it on top of all the new furniture in his apartment. You just don't know. But "virgin hair" let's not jump to conclusions. Under no pretense would I ever consider my hair to be a "virgin hair".

But let's get back to the problem. My Goldilocks minus the locks hair. Apparently the dye didn't hold like it should have so I had golden blonde roots and the tips of my hair were brown. Great. Now what? We'll add highlights that will make it more blonde. Ok, whatever, just fix it.

Three hours later, hungry, pretending to be happy, just to get out of this hell hole and now sporting golden hair with curling iron waves, I walk out.

Hair never really mattered to me until I got a bad dye job, I guess. I would never have guessed, how down right angry and upset I would be.  I was vividly pissed. More than $100 in the hole and I wanting to look like a sexy sophisticated 21 year old with champagne hair,  just had my "virgin hair" dyed to look like a rebelling Goldilocks. So yeah hair it's important. And I support anyone who needs to scream out the window while throwing there useless hair products at unsuspecting good hairdo looking people walking by. Because not everyone's day is going to be perfect. Look at the Goldilockses of this world! Is it really so much for them to want to throw John Frieda shampoo at anyone with a good hairdo? I don't think so.

Talk Show Tuesday

No gas money + No job + Living at home + Friends far away = FOUR talk shows in ONE Day!

This is not normal. I should be off drinking mixed drinks with friends and complaining about my job or that test my professor gave. Granted it is summer but I'm used to living a crazy social life. Instead the only social outing of the day is watching Kathie Lee Gifford and Hoda Kotb have a drink and listening Anderson Cooper's girlish giggle. By the time The Chew comes on I'm finished with 2 cups of and I would feel entirely at home taking a family picture with my talk show host buds. When my mother came home today, I had more to talk to her about regarding people I've never even met then anything involving my life. Anderson Coopers jeans. Yep, he washes them 4 times a year. Michael Symon lives in Cleveland and ironically Patricia Heaton used to live in Cleveland as well. Yet sadly enough she informs us that her favorite  Baskin Robbins  in L.A. has closed. Why do I know any of this let alone discussing this I have no idea? But I know I need to get out. Maybe tomorrow, Dancing with the Stars in on soon! 

The Job Hunt

Let's be blatantly honest job hunting sucks. And if anyone ever tells you other wise you should de-friend them, de-pinterest them and de-tweet them (or whatever you do on twitter). Job hunting is like online dating at first you have so much hope for all these awesome opportunities that are going to come your way! And then IT begins.

The application is way too long and asks very  in dept and confusing questions and you feel more clueless and insure than when you started. If it's online you have to take a math test, or a how happy are you questionnaire or watch  a badly pixeled computer character talk to you about what it means to be in a team environment. After filling out you application you do the creep. Putting on "casual clothes" that really means, I took half an hour to pick out this outfit and I'm praying to god that my pants are just the right ratio of tight to classy, and handing in your application. This usually takes less than one minute of you giving you application to some insignificant drown but in the  back of your mind you're like maybe, maybe this drown is secretly in charge and this is one of those Undercover Boss shows. It never is but good job on the outfit plus you got to scope out the place. Them comes the waiting.
And waiting
And waiting.

Until you are such a basket of nerves and wonder. Why didn't they call? Did I do somethings wrong?  Maybe they wanted someone prettier me? Or someone with more experience? Or maybe they just didn't like me.
And so you take the plunge. You call them and most of the time they answer with. "Oh I don't think they are looking at the applications until next week."
(Insert your own idea of a pissed off smiley face here.)
And so the process begins again. And again. And again.
And that's not even the interview process so hang on and prepare to get whip lashed because..

Job hunting is like...

being a deer prancing though the forest and then bam shot with an arrow. 

AKA You go about your mildly, happy day only to open you e-mail and bam rejection letter and by an automated computer source not even the manger!

a fat girl sitting in the corner at her high school dance. 

AKA You are constantly waiting for them to call you but they don't even know you are alive since they haven't even made the time to read your name off of the front page of your application.

being in a Toddlers and Tiaras beauty pageant. 

AKA Your mom told you to apply, saying that it would be a good opportunity but you just feel like an imposter.

So I say good luck to every job hunter out there because you are going to need it.

Broke on Mother's Day

When I was little, Mother's Day cards consisted of me drawing lopsided flowers all over my dad's printer paper. When I got a bit older, I would make a Mothers Day card on the computer adding as many pictures from clip art as I could find. When I was a teenager I became too cool for that and bought my cards at someplace fancy, or my idea of fancy, like a card from Hallmark that isn't in the 99 cent row. Now I'm back at home living with my parents. No job, no money. And at 21 years old my dad bought my Mothers Day card for me to give to my mom. It's pretty sad the situation and the card really. The card, if you didn't know I was 21, makes me out to be more fit for the 7th grade. But good try dad.

So in my heart it was a sad Mother's Day although Mom never would have guessed. Sorry mom there's no trip to the Bahamas,Louis Vuitton or even a card bought by me. But more importantly there's no ring on my finger, boyfriend on my caller id or job offers in my future. Sorry mom all my broke heart has for you is love and shoes in my closet that will fit your feet.  Happy Mother's Day!

To laugh or not to laugh?

Let's watch a movie. Bring it on something good, language, violence, sex, comedy. Add mom and Dad and I thing I'd rather watch the teletubbies. And damn I really wanted to watch that movie. So what are my options? Do I laugh?

What swear words am I aloud to laugh at?

What about sex? Can I watch it or do I have to pretend to be their little princess?

In general how can I watch this movie with my parents and not be so awkwarded out? I can't there is no hope. If I leave then it's awkward if I don't  it's awkward. But I have some tips, ideas that are not proven, tested, or mildly experimented on but they are the best you've got.

Can't take the awkwardness?

If you must leave I suggest one of the following

1. Have a friend call you or if you have no friends there should be a setting on your phone that test calls your phone or whatever. Pretend you are talking on the phone and make your escape. 
2. Type furiously on your phone while scrunching your eyebrows multiple times, tipping your head from side to side but not to fast this isn't a 80's disco move. This will give the illusion of friend problem that require immediate attention that means you can make your escape. 
3. Look out the window, make huge eyes, stammer about a giant purple elephant and run out of the room.   

I want to stick it out!

You can do it! Here are 3 steps to help you be a man or woman or whatever gender you want to associate with. 

1. Only chuckle never full on laugh even if there really is a giant purple elephant.
2. Have an "ah oh" option that way when you're not sure what to do laugh, cry, or stare at your dog for a few minutes you can use your "ah oh" option. I suggest a computer, phone, magazine, grand piano with a Chopin score but any or all will do. 
3. Think lamaze classes. In and out keep breathing try to relax, even slow breathing. It's the only way to stop grabbing for your paper bag.

Good luck and may the movies be with you.

My imaginary child that takes the bus

My mother plays a depressing piano piece in the background I can only assume it is weight watchers morning march but the homemade mac and cheese I earlier devoured with my family was worth every dissonant note from the lower end of our upright piano.

Anyhow I have a strange new problem. A local school district has apparently decided that I have a child currently attending their school. Now I don't. I know this because
1. I don't have a child.
2. If I did have a child I would hope I would know which school district my child goes to school in.

 So far being the parent to my imaginary child has been humorous.  I receive phone calls about the busing schedule about parent teacher conferences and such but as summer approaches perhaps I should inform them that I don't have a child at their school district. The only issue is how? I just can't seem to say "Hi you've had the wrong number for months and I just haven't informed you due to my laziness." Hmm maybe something like, "My child mmmrmmmm is not attending school in this district so I would like to be taken off of the calling list?" But I see this idea going south as well. I don't even know what number to call so this is really rubbish as I believe a Brit would say. Aw well perhaps tomorrow?

WHO ARE YOU? Who? Who?...Who? Who?

Hello every 20 something out there! My name is Jess. I'm sure every blogger starts off with my name is, my favorite color and my views on  gay marriage, taxes, or gun control, but I'm not every blogger nor am I Stephen Colbert. I'm living with my parents. For the first time in almost 2 years my home is exclusively with  a plus mom plus dad approval. I'm without a job and trying to graduate college next year. I returned about 2 weeks ago from spending a month in Germany and have forgotten how to communicate with the outside world manly men but hey what can I say? Apparently a lot since I started a blog.