here’s what.

sometimes my job sucks. and sometimes it rocks.

today, well, it rocks.

since i was still of mix-tape and beeper age (although i never actually had a beeper but really wanted one. and once got left with my friend katherine’s beeper and enjoyed an awesome 12-hour period of feeling extra cool), i have wanted to make movies. or be a part of them. and never for the fame and red carpets and shoulder-rubbing with people who make an obscene amount of money pretending to be someone else. because i can do that on a bi-daily basis. for free.

no, i actually kinda like walking to the bodega for some neosporin knowing that not one person i pass has any clue who i am. or even cares.

but i always wanted the movies.

so i did it.

and it hasn’t been an easy road.

i’ve been beat up, spit out, and yelled at to the point of tears and vomit.

[and also applauded. i don’t forget the applause. it keeps me grounded and secure]

but i’ve met the most amazing people, sometimes simply by knocking on the door to their shanty-town-hole-in-the-wall-project-apartment and being invited in for coffee. or conversation. or skepticism. always skepticism. (until i turn on the southern charm and they realize i am not there to rob them blind)

i get paid to meet people and invite myself into their lives. and while i (twice) did this while simultaneously hearing gunshots 20 yards away, i always left a little different than when i walked in.

tougher. smarter. much much smarter.

i spent a lot of time at the start of my career being shipped out to random new-to-me towns where i knew no one and nothing. they gave me a map and a rental car and said “go.”

and i went. i always went.

but it took its toll . . . on my mind, body, spirit, relationship.

so i eased up. a lot.

i cut back on the insanity, the absurdity, even the good times of working overnights and then watching the sunrise with a collection of people who were the only people in the world who could honestly rationalize why we were all there watching the sunrise when “normalcy” said we should be sleeping.

screw normalcy.

so i’m going back out. bigger than the 6 months on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. harder than the “sorry, we ran out of water” time spent in Phoenix … in july … (which probably warranted some sort of labor union law suit). stranger than the bout spent in St. Louis (which is arguably the weirdest city i’ve ever inhabited, even if it was only temporary).

and if wifi is on my side . . . i will blog about it.

or at least take a ton of photos and upload them on faceboook.

this is going to be nuts.

mark my word.

my dawgs suck and so does big blue.

the only reason – ONLY reason – i am at all okay with the loss of summer and the transition into what will soon become the dread of winter is football season.

but with my alma mater in shambles and the home team down at the meadowlands looking like anything but the super bowl champs they were a few years ago, i am officially boycotting the change of season and considering an absence without leave.

so i started with a trip down the delaware. and it helped.

so until next weekend when i’m so sure i will have to subject myself to some more misery and, quite honestly, uninspired boredom, i will be planning said bout of absence without leave.

anyone interested in quitting their job for a few months and doing something 100% rad, give me a shout. because this is going to be epic.

mom knows best. always.

sometimes we (and by we, i mean PEOPLE. as in everyone) tend to focus on the negative.

the things that aren’t. instead of the things that are.

it almost becomes second nature to complain about the things we want to change. the things we wish would change. the things we wish were different.

frustration can be paralyzing . . . i challenge the fool who disagrees with me.

so in the midst of a particular rant of frustration to my beloved mother, who is wiser than she will ever know, kinder than she will ever admit, and JUST.PLAIN.SMART., she did what she always does and gave me a solution.

one that worked.

of course.

because she’s mom

and that’s what moms do.

she told me to write down 5 things i was grateful for. then do it again every day.

and she promised it would do me some good.

and guess what . . . it did.

with a world of things to complain about, sometimes the good stuff gets lost. the important stuff. the stuff that actually matters. but we let it get lost.

we all do it.

well, i don’t want to lose the good stuff. not one morsel of it.

go make your list.

even if it includes “i’m thankful for washing machines.”

my mom was super smart even back in 1982.

she knew pumpkin colored shag carpet was the bomb diggity.

cocktail hour. or hours.

things got a little weird friday at work.

[as can be seen below in the previous post]

we were tired. we were annoyed. we were frustrated. we just wanted it all.to.end.

from the next office, screaming began. and it went a little something like this:

“MARCY, GO MAKE US DRINKS ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !”

um, okay.

never one to disobey a hostile & somewhat threatening direct order, i skipperdee’d on into the kitchen and made this:

but let me explain something to you. i am not a bartender. i can make anything that requires 2 ingredients like, say, rum&coke, vodka&tonic, gin&juice (insert snoop dogg here), et cetera.

but when it comes to things fancy or frilly (or basically anything i don’t drink regularly or ever), then all bets are off.

and if it involves a martini glass (which falls under the fancy and frilly category because, frankly, i think martini glasses are silly and unnecessary and make me feel like i’m walking on eggshells around my cocktail – which defeats the purpose of the cocktail altogether), then forget it. i’m gonna throw a whole bunch of stuff together, shake the hell out of it, and make it look pretty with a visually pleasing but entirely useless garnish.

in this case, it rocked our weary-minded worlds. i don’t really know what all is in it, but i should have paid attention and named it. someone would have paid 17-bucks for one of these suckers in the city. maybe more.

about 6 minutes into happy hour, there was more shouting . . . “TAKE PICTURES OF OMAR ! ! ! !”

okay. but who is omar??

“THE GUY FIXING THE PATIO ! ! ! ! QUICK TAKE PICTURES ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !”

and now i have about 30 pictures on my phone that look exactly like this:

sweet.

talking to inanimate objects.

God invented fridays for a reason. so that just as soon as your sanity starts to run thin, you get a break. otherwise, things like this start happening and, well, let’s be honest – this shiz just a’int good for nobody.

i think you’re weird.

 

your enthusiasm is overkill.

 

you’re yelling at me. WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?

 

attention snob.

 

okay, now you’re freaking me out.

 

happy friday, homies. i’m going to go find some much needed normalcy to roll around in…

to whom it may concern.

this is exactly how my strong-worded letter is going to begin. the one i’m going to write as soon as absolutely possible.

i have a family member who writes letters to everybody. and by everybody, i mean E.V.E.R.Y.B.O.D.Y.

he writes letters to people who piss him off. he writes letters to people who provide him with good customer service. he writes letters to members of the board. which board? any board. even boards he is not associated with. as long as they have a mailing address, BAM they get a letter.

he wrote a letter to Wendy’s once for making the most perfect hamburger. true story.

and when he can’t write a letter to the jackass who cuts him off while he cruises down the street in his top-down benz, then he just follows them around town. sometimes for hours. sometimes with a bat. sometimes not. (also a true story) ‘cause nothing screams I MEAN BUSINESS like a senior citizen tailgating you through the rich part of town in an overpriced german automobile with the wind blowing through his hair.

thug life.

i’m writing my letter to the first category of lucky letter receivers: the ones who piss me off. this particular letter is going to the employer (read: scary boss who owns your life) of this guy i have had the sincere misfortune of working with dealing with putting up with for the last 3 months.

and “to whom it may concern” just seems snarky.

and snarky is exactly what i want to be.

not always. not even ever. but for this occasion, i will make an exception.

and then i plan on making a voodoo doll and stabbing it repeatedly with safety pins.

big ones.

like the ones that hold kilts together.

baby love.

this little thing happened last week.

and i got to be the one to drive him home from the hospital.

[and take a billion photos of him]

luckiest.girl.ever.is.me.