I'm not going to lie, guys, I'm kind of psyched to be part of the workforce again. I'm sure this will prove to be a temporary feeling, but I really feel less like a dirt bag and waste of space now that I'm working. Normally at the end of the day I'm like, "Welp! Today I watched two back-to-back episodes of Who's The Boss, stared out the window, did some light Wikipedia work and wrote a blog post about hookworms—you're welcome, society." Now I just feel productive and tired. Yeah, I work retail which isn't exactly what I always wanted to be when I grew up, but I like the people I work with, I'm back in a creative environment and I don't feel the need to pack a cyanide pill in my lunchbox every morning anymore—what more could a girl ask for? (Side note: I love em dashes. If I weren't married to Talia on Facebook, Em Dash and I would be in a relationship slightly more serious than anyone should ever be in with something the width of a capital M. That being said, reader @a_trout replied to something I said on Twitter the other day with the following:
@2birds1blog I applaud the usage of an em dash in that tweet, even if they are ugly as sin.
1.) You're from Rochester, NY
2.) You evidently enjoy triple-decker sandwiches
3.) You just broke up a very happy home with me and the em dash.
I hope you're happy with yourself, sir.)
Although I actually like my job for once, it's still not a perfect situation. I promised myself I wouldn't really get into the specifics because I actually like my manager and co-workers and don't want to get fired (NEW EMOTIONS!), but I will admit that there's one person at work who I can't fucking stand. He ruins every single shift I work and frankly, I don't care if he knows it. I'm naming names. His name is Paul—Paul Simon.
The same eight Paul Simon songs. Over and over again. All day long.
I hate you, Paul Simon. I hate you and I hate your "music" and it feels so unbelievably liberating to say it here and now. I hate your whiny voice; I hate your hair cut; I hate your beady little eyes; I hate your glasses; I hate that you let Chevy Chase boss you around in the "You Can Call Me Al" video, I hate Edie Brickell and I really hate the song "What I Am", so it only makes sense that you married her; I hate that people judge me and assume I have horrible taste in music when I tell them how much I hate you; I DESPISE the song "Scarborough Fair" (side note: this really doesn't have anything to do with Paul Simon, but during the first few weeks of college freshman year, I was in Ashleigh's room hanging out and getting to know her, etc. when "Scarborough Fair" came on her iTunes. I freaked out and was like, "Oh my god, I hate this song. It's so unbelievably depressing and there's kind of a story behind it for me and just—gah, can you turn it off and never play it around me again?" She turned it off, no questions asked, and later told me she assumed it was a dead relative's favorite song or something and every time I hear it it reminds me of them.
I was hanging out in her room with a few people a month or so later and it came on her iTunes again. Without me even asking, she apologized and turned it off right away. Someone else in the room asked why it's such a painful song for me, so I told them the story behind it—it's the song that plays in the 2000 Jason Biggs/Mena Suvari movie Loser when Jason Biggs is sitting in Washington Square Park all depressed because he doesn't have any friends. Every time I saw that scene (it was on HBO for a while; don't judge me.) I'd be like, "ahhh! He goes to NYU and doesn't have any friends! That's going to be me!" and get ultra depressed. After hearing that, Ashleigh was like, "...SERIOUSLY? THAT'S THE REASON YOU CAN'T LISTEN TO THAT SONG?!" Honestly, that was probably a pretty good introduction to the kind of illogical reasoning you have to deal with on a daily basis when you're friends with me. But she stuck with, so it can't be that annoying, right?...RIGHT?!
In short: I hate Paul Simon. And I should mention this hatred isn't a result of hearing his music on repeat all day at work. We play the same Michael Bublé CD over and over again and guess what? I physically can't get enough of it. That man can croon. It's just Paul Simon's music that makes me want to claw my own ears off mid-transaction.
I should also clarify that I hated Paul Simon way before I ever got this job. His Graceland album was a staple in the McBlogger family car growing up and after years of being forced to listen to it anytime we went anywhere, it mysteriously vanished. It was this big to-do because my parents thought Becca lost it, but she maintained that it must have fallen out of the CD player when the car was getting serviced at the dealership and we never got a new one because nobody would step up to the plate and take the blame. Little did they know that I took that CD, broke it into 5,000 little pieces and buried it in an unmarked grave down by the river. And when I was done, I pissed on that grave, flicked my cigarette onto the freshly disturbed soil and laughed and laughed. Just kidding. I didn't do any of that. I think it fell out at the dealership, but! I was fuckin' psyched when it's reign of terror was over.
There was a lull in business on Sunday and I decided to take that time to make a comprehensive list of everything I would rather listen to than Paul Simon. I leave you now with that list.
Things I Would Rather Listen to Than Paul Simon:- Pan flute music
- A baby cry
- Car breaks screech
- A lonely fog horn
- A pregnant woman in labor
- Jill Zarin and Bethenny Frenkel work out their differences
- A slain dragon take it's last, dying breath
- Russell The Homophobic Co-Worker suck air through his teeth
- The waiter at T.G.I. Friday's tell me today's specials. Again.
- A disco whistle
- A college a capella group sing Journey's Don't Stop Believin'. But not like the best a capella group on campus, the group that when you don't get into the best group you're roommate comforts you by saying, "Aww, it's OK! You could always try out for ________ !" That group singing Journey's Don't Stop Believin'.
- My neighbor having slappy sex
- Someone trying to convince me that global warming is a myth, as evidenced by The Snowpocalypse
- A good pussy story
- Amateur slam poetry
- Two hours of Bob Saget stand-up comedy
- My mom lecture me about how my blog makes me look like an alcoholic
- My dad ask me if I'm still going to the gym
- My dad ask me if I'm still going to the gym right after my mom lectures me about how my blog makes me look like an alcoholic
- My dad ask me if I'm still going to the gym right after my mom lectures me about how my blog makes me look like an alcoholic during my birthday dinner
- An Evening with Kevin Smith
- A passive-aggressive sigh
- Vern "Mini-Me" Troyer talk about Heath Ledger's death on Access Hollywood
- Someone practice their cockney accent for a local production of Oliver!
- Evie scrow
- Someone talk about how their college really emphasized community service
- Any given Nickelback song
- Someone talk about how good it feels to go to the gym early in the morning before work
- The pros and cons of NuvaRing
- A vacuum cleaner going over broken glass
- A single mother talking about how it's just so hard
- The benefits of veganism
- John Mayer performing a never-ending mic check
- The soft whimpers of a grown man crying himself to sleep
- Ke$ha's "Tik-Tok". (I know, strong words.)
- Angry mid-90's Riot Grrrl music
- Dane Cook discuss the craft of acting
- The meanest anonymous comments ever left on the blog read aloud by Fran Drescher
(8 minutes in. Get tissues.)