Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Schools Out

The only graduation song I need. 

So, the race is won and what not. I beat the American education system with my small freckled fist like the boss I was born to be. Hilariously, the day before graduation the arts building caught fire because of the decrepit heating system. It was saved, no extensive books. But I felt Alice Cooper would be appropriate. Now I can focus on making money, going to Maine and introducing another state to my awesomeness.

On a related note to making money because I'm poor as fuck, popcorn is now a food group to me. My pyramid sort of looks like ramen over popcorn over sugar with a caffeine base. I forgot to eat before work so I came home, popped a bag and am chilling out to the Venture Bros. with it while Gidget complains about her lack of sex. She went into heat and apparently is heart broken that I put Biscuit in mom's room. Poor guy was wiped out. And walking funny. I thought he could use a break.

Hilariously, Gidget doesn't totally understand mating, so when Biscuit slows down she tries to take the top position. I don't think she knows it doesn't work that way.

Its almost Christmas. In case you didn't know. I'm stoked to the max. No idea what I'm getting, really, but everyone is home and getting along. There's a ton of cookies and macaroni and cheese. There will be bacon and meat. And cookies. And bacon. I've been listening to my random Christmas songs, like Here Comes Son Goku and what not.

H&M is great. The best job so far. Though tonight was slow and boring, I won't complain because I'm making moneys. The people are nice, the work is decent and the customers are better than Forever 21. However, those last minute bitches who like to mess up my perfect racks piss me the fuck off. Don't come into my store 10 minutes before closing, flip clothes over the rack and not even buy something. I also don't want to hear you bitch that a seven dollar dress doesn't come in your size, you angry moo cow. BITCH. This is not Torrid.

Which is horrible of me, but that woman was a level 10 narcissistic douche. I apologize we don't carry your size, I do, but don't take it out on my racks. Just because I get paid to work there doesn't mean you get to treat my store like a fucking free for all. Also, keep you damn kids out of my displays or I swear I'll loosen the mannequins from the bases enough to scare the shit out of them. Inattentive parenting dicks.

Rambling done. Good job is still good.

Sarah told me recently I don't talk about David all that often. Which is true. Why? Because if the world discovered just how freaking awesome he is, someone may try to take him. And that would mean I'd have to fight a bitch. He really is the best man in the world. Sweet, funny, smart, witty. It totally helps he thinks I'm beautiful and tells me so every day. And that he believes that my craziness is what makes me epic.

So, I try not to talk about him not just to rub how fucking great he is into my friends' faces, but also because I fear becoming that girl whose always ranting about her boyfriend. I now he's awesome. He knows I know. Fuck the world, we make our own rules. I don't want to go on facebook and do the 'I miss you baby' 'My sweetie is so cool. Can't breathe without him. Its like Stockholm but more romantic' or 'I love my boyfriend because he hasn't filed a restraining order yet, and even when he does, it won't stop me'. Those girls aggravate me to no end. I can live without David. Its perfectly human.

But I really don't want to. I think that's more important. We would survive without each other just fine, but neither of us wants to face that world. Missing pieces and whatnot.

Anyway, Goodnight world. Popcorn is gone so its time for dreams.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Tree Octopodes

It's finals week, I'm panicking like a mad woman. The weather is shifting so rapidly my head feels like it will explode in five seconds. There's a lot going on, I've got to say.

So, in my mad rush yesterday to finish (by finish I mean start, edit, and print) my eight page autobiography for Fiction class I happened to be present for something interesting. A psychology graduate student was being reviewed by a panel of senior staff (double entendre there, because all the gents were old as sin).

On a random note, I'm getting pissed at Chrome for telling me entendre is not a word, but gents is. Moving back to the topic at hand.

This girl is about twenty-two at most. She's explaining to them that in her teaching assignment she wanted to explain things in two meshed ways. Be innovative. Involve the class. How to use Xtra Normal to get the students to build funny tutorials so they grasp the materials. That caught my attention. I about pissed myself with laughter when she started explaining about The Pacific Northwest Tree Octopus and the movement to save it as an endangered species. When one the older men asked if this was a legitimate campaign I almost had to walk away.

I had never heard of this before at this point, but the mere idea was enough to make me die of laughter. Then I looked it up.

I had a joygasm. Legitimately, I snorted and felt euphoric amounts of pleasure. A website that mentions both Sasquatch, an octopus that lives in conifers, fights over grammar and how to become the biggest idiot in the woods since snype hunting is what heaven is made of. The further I got into the website, the more ridiculously amazing it became. They have faux scientific names and photos and everything. This is the best internet hoax since Bonsai Kitty.

In other news, Russia is in the midst of a revolution because Valdimir Putin rigged the presidential election in the most idiotic way possible. 140% of votes went to him alone. That's not including the votes for other candidates, mind you. You want the news on that, go to Because apparently Russian government has implemented one hell of a blackout on the media so the story can't be leaked. You know. Since the developed world isn't all the keen on outright oppression.

Let's see. I'm starting work tomorrow. I have two exams left until I'm done with the semester and hopefully school. I'm anxious about it.

I don't have much else to say at the moment. So, goodnight world!

Saturday, December 3, 2011

The Bitch Please Paradox

Fuck you. Fuck you and your ridiculous grade school form of cowardice that has let you bitch to me for almost TEN years instead of fixing your fucking middle class issues. Fuck the fact that with all the shit you talk about your life, with all the texts I've answered, phone calls I've taken, advice I've given, projects we've made and all the absolute whining you've done that you don't respect me enough to at least tell me you don't want to speak to me anymore. Double fuck the fact that you were cool until he put that ring on your finger.

I try not to ask for much from people. Honesty, respect. Basic human wants, I think. I ask that you treat me as well as I treat you and not more. If you can't give that, then cut ties so we can both be on our own ways. I guess that's what happened. I just had more invested than the other party.

The deal is, I had a friend from seventh grade until earlier this year. She was really close to me when we lived in Idaho, decently close in Hawaii and since I've been in Virginia due to mutual shit storms our lives haven't totally meshed. But we were still friends. When her douchebag boyfriend cheated on her and they broke up for 48 hours? I was the one she called. And I took that call. We texted and what not. Not always frequently, but I don't consistently text anyone. Even Sarah. And for God's sake, we're engaged!

I go on Facebook, curious because none of my previous texts had been answered and none of my messages or comments replied to to find out she deleted me. Okay, I get it. You're all engaged and growing up. I'm not always easy to deal with and those who can deserve a trophy no doubt. But you could have the fucking respect to tell me personally you have a problem or are tired or whatever the issue is before just cowardly dipping out like a bitch.

In all honesty, its understandable. I won't lie about it. Anyone who knows me knows I can not only be a bitch, but that I'm sometimes very hard to deal with. I'm not even angry she doesn't want to be friends. I'm completely angry with how she went about it. She's not a bad person. As annoyed as I am I'm not an idiot. She's starting a life with someone she loves and all that. Being all adulty. My complaint is completely related to the fact she didn't have the courtesy to forewarn me. Granted, its her nature to avoid conflict as much as humanly possible, still. 8 years feels like it merits some sort of heads up. Well, at any rate I wish her the best. I hope her fiance mans up and matures. I hope she finds a job she's happy at and that her self esteem starts to sky rocket. She does deserve to be happy for once. Its not something she's had a lot of in her life.

In other news. I graduate soon! WOO. I will be the fourth Foltermann, second member of my household and I believe first Holt to receive a college degree. Maybe. My cousin or aunt may have beaten me to it. I will be officially done with school December 17th and plan to party it up with my parents and maybe Tim and a few former work buddies.

I have a new job. I now work at the illustrious H&M, and I am obligated to mention none of my opinions or rants reflect the company, personnel, or values and I am not in any manner a spokesperson or public endorser. I'm excited about it. The company in itself is very interesting and well coordinated, the staff is awesome and the work is stuff I can do. Oh, and there's a store in Portland, Maine so I can likely transfer up there after my exit exam in January.

Which, my move date has been pushed back about a month. I neglected to take my exit exam BEFORE graduating, so I have to take the next one in January. After that I should be home free. I'll be in Maine, tackling moose, cuddling with my beau, and partying with Emily. Who is, by the way, going to be the bestest roommate in the whole wide world. I can't wait to live with her.

I want some steampunk-esque goggles to wear on top of my head. I don't know why, other than I like the way they look. And I have some things to ask my new manager about  before I do them. There's nothing in the handbook for H&M about hair, tattoos or piercings so I want to double check with her before I dye my bangs green or turquoise. I had them pink but it faded quickly.

I'm also on chapter 9 of my novel and missed my National Novel Writing Month deadline by 433 words. One day this book will be on shelves. I will see it happen!

I'm too tired to type right. Off to bed I go.

Goodnight world!!