Well, I started this blog when I was in high school, and at that point I was already too busy updating my Myspace and Xanga(s) and all that other oldskool shit to keep this up. Pretty sure I have a LJ floating around somewhere too, who the fuck knows. Then Facebook came along and I stopped caring about broadcasting my thoughts to the universe (except maybe in 130 characters or less) and, like everyone else, developed a great interest in status- and photo-stalking people I don't really talk to or give a shit about. So here's a brief synopsis of my life now:
I'm in college, living with a friend, her brother, his fiance, and our 3 dogs. We are a tangled slew of financial-, academic-, and health-related anxiety and tension by day and alcoholics by night. The dogs live in the back yard until lunchtime/bedtime because they are obnoxious. When the end of the month comes around, we are on the phone with our parents begging for either money or sheer sympathy--the latter of which is seldom received, which for me invokes a whirlwind of rage, so I drink about it; that got me in trouble recently, so I figured I'd start blogging about it.
That's about it. The end.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Swap n' Shop.
Possibly the most pointless yet fascinating event to ever occur in Rosedale.
Basically, it's a huge weekly rendezvous of hundreds of people coming together to buy, sell, and trade their useless shit.
My dad just got married a few months ago and the process of moving into his wife's house is coming to a close. He has little left to do to finalize the sale on his house, but much to do with all the shit that came from his house.
Renee's house is pretty small as it is. Usually I spend the night there once a week, and while her son was in town I slept there once and it was decided that there is just not enough room for the four of us. It's a one-story, two-bed one-bath cute little abode but there is literally no space to function whatsoever. And all my dad's shit has to go.
And because the midwesterners were a little late to recieve the memo that the Mexicans were acomin', none of us are very good at Spanish. And Rosedale is a predominately Mexican town. My dad and Renee both teach school around the area so they've had their share of Spanish-teaching tapes in their cars (imagine hearing "Puerto. Puerto. Door." a thousand times). I know the Spanish words for door, eggs, hello, thank you, and numbers 1-14. Not enough to sell a dining room set.
This has been my second week doing Swap n' Shop. Last week was impossibly hot outside... luckily, today I was almost a little chilly, thanks to all the rain we've been getting. But we're usually there for hours. It's awful.
My first experience with a Spanish-speaking customer went something like this:
Guy: *Points at computer monitor.* "Quantos?"
Me: "...What?"
Guy: "Quantos?"
Me: "Oh. Computer monitor."
Guy: "No no. Quantos?"
Me: *Making the connection between quantos and quantity.* "OH. Like. Twenty bucks?"
Little did I know that you don't sell anything for twenty bucks at Swap n' shop. That was last week, and my dad sold that thing for fifty cents today.
I wish my camera worked. There were people there with their entire cars covered with little cheap dog sculptures and shot glass collections and just random stupid knick-knacks that no one is ever going to want. How do people even acquire so much useless shit? And more importantly, who would haggle with the seller over it?
Why?
Basically, it's a huge weekly rendezvous of hundreds of people coming together to buy, sell, and trade their useless shit.
My dad just got married a few months ago and the process of moving into his wife's house is coming to a close. He has little left to do to finalize the sale on his house, but much to do with all the shit that came from his house.
Renee's house is pretty small as it is. Usually I spend the night there once a week, and while her son was in town I slept there once and it was decided that there is just not enough room for the four of us. It's a one-story, two-bed one-bath cute little abode but there is literally no space to function whatsoever. And all my dad's shit has to go.
And because the midwesterners were a little late to recieve the memo that the Mexicans were acomin', none of us are very good at Spanish. And Rosedale is a predominately Mexican town. My dad and Renee both teach school around the area so they've had their share of Spanish-teaching tapes in their cars (imagine hearing "Puerto. Puerto. Door." a thousand times). I know the Spanish words for door, eggs, hello, thank you, and numbers 1-14. Not enough to sell a dining room set.
This has been my second week doing Swap n' Shop. Last week was impossibly hot outside... luckily, today I was almost a little chilly, thanks to all the rain we've been getting. But we're usually there for hours. It's awful.
My first experience with a Spanish-speaking customer went something like this:
Guy: *Points at computer monitor.* "Quantos?"
Me: "...What?"
Guy: "Quantos?"
Me: "Oh. Computer monitor."
Guy: "No no. Quantos?"
Me: *Making the connection between quantos and quantity.* "OH. Like. Twenty bucks?"
Little did I know that you don't sell anything for twenty bucks at Swap n' shop. That was last week, and my dad sold that thing for fifty cents today.
I wish my camera worked. There were people there with their entire cars covered with little cheap dog sculptures and shot glass collections and just random stupid knick-knacks that no one is ever going to want. How do people even acquire so much useless shit? And more importantly, who would haggle with the seller over it?
Why?
Thursday, July 13, 2006
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