Wow its been too long

I didn't realize how long its been since I wrote something. So try this on:

I think emotions running high make for good creative material. I think most artists, whether that's in some tangible medium, musician, anything creative, have a highly emotional side. I think a lot of us are completely nuts too. But I also think there's a middle ground somewhere. But what's more important is the question: If the emotions are controlled, is the creativity squashed?

I think it is. I think highly creative people who are very talented should stay as far away from therapy as possible. I think they should let their emotions run wild and use that to create whatever they can and as often as they can. From personal experience, as both an artist and a therapist, I honestly believe that therapy can kill a creative career.

However, be forewarned. Highly emotional highly creative types can and often do drive everyone around them nuts. Misery loves company right? They may act erratically and have ups and downs worse then the newest roller coaster at Six Flags. But that's why we love them.

Then again, most of us have a distant relationship with these artists. Most of us don't know them well or at all. They've drawn a picture we've seen or wrote a song we like. But we don't hang out with them. So for those that are shielded from the insanity, we have it easy. Of course we want them to be as crazy as they can to create what they can.

But if these people worked out their "issues" that they tap into for their creativity, there would be nothing left. They would have come to terms with or gotten over the very issues that drive that creative part of them. Now I'm not saying they would lose their edge completely. But it would be quite watered down.

Maybe I'm just full of shit. But that's what I think. That's my rant for hating the fact that I chose a career where I can't help people the way I want to because of the bureaucracy I work in. I might have been crazy while working in my former career but at least I felt alive. And productive.

So who wants to give me a writing gig? My current job sucks.

I have nothing to write about

But I figured I should post something anyway. Actually, I have a lot to write about. Unfortunately, there are some things going on that keep me from writing. You know, things happen and life gets in the way of life. But here's something to think about- why do we keep ourselves from doing what we want to do the most?

The Fall of Customer Service

I have wanted to write about this for some time. But as luck would have it, I've been having more and more trouble with what seems to pass for customer service lately. You don't like the word service? Is that beneath you? I'm sorry. How about customer relations then? Because it seems like you just want to bend me over and fuck me sans lube anyway.

I'll give three examples of why I feel the world of service is going to shit. I could go on about this all day long but I'll stop myself at three. I wouldn't want to either bore you all or make you pee your pants at work. That would be embarrassing.

Example 1 - I went to a popular restaurant here in the land of hell. My friend and I wait for what I believe is almost 20 minutes before we get a menu. We order two drinks. I ask for a diet soda and my friend asks for an iced chai tea. Now, there are many ways of making chai tea. Let's focus on the iced part rather then the recipe of the drink shall we? Iced implies cold. Correct? Well, not in this particular twilight zone. Here, iced means very warm. My friend is not happy that she was given a drink that feels like it's been sitting around too long. So I urge my friend to request that the drink actually be iced- i.e. made colder. The waiter came back to us and said that the manager said, "That's how it's made". She tells him she's been in this establishment several times and its never been made like this and she wants it how she usually gets it. The waiter walks off and comes back and again says "The manager said that's how we make it". I say, "Fuck this. We're leaving". Are you fucking kidding me? A customer asks for a drink to be made differently because a- that's how she normally gets it IN YOUR RESTAURANT and b- because that is the correct way to make it. And as a manager you tell her no? How fucking hard is it to pour it over some more ice? Unbelievable. I mean she wants it colder. She's not asking for a gold nugget in the bottom of her cup. Oh and thanks so much for not only telling her too bad, but for not caring about how long we waited to try to eat in your lovely place. How about, "I'm so sorry you've had a bad experience. It's not normally like this here." Asshole.

Example 2- I buy something online shortly before Christmas. After checking the tracking information I was given, I find that the item was not shipped until several days after Christmas. I write to the seller and tell him that I am upset that it took 4 days just to print shipping information and that if Christmas was going to interfere with shipping, he should have made that clear. I will now have to wait 2 weeks for the item from the day I ordered it. He replies and tells me that Christmas Eve is a holiday because the shipping service he uses wouldn't pick up packages that day and I should know that because I sell things online too. (Are you kidding?) He uses all capitals to express that to either yell at me or for emphasis on what an idiot he thinks I am. Or both. (It's both. See my caps in the above example.) He goes on to tell me that he managed to get other packages out because they paid before I did. And, I should not complain because he shipped said package within 3 business days as he states is the usual handling time for his items. I reply tearing him new asshole. But my basic point was that as someone who does sell things, I would never imply that other customers are more important because they paid first. I go on to tell him that when I know there is a holiday coming up that will interfere with shipping, I make sure all items that are paid for are shipped immediately. I would never fucking talk like that to a customer unless they were completely out of control. I am completely justified in my complaint about shipping both as a customer and as a seller. How fucking dare you talk like that to me?! How about, "Sorry. Things are crazy here with the holidays and all. Can I give you free shipping or a discount on your next purchase"? That is what good customer service is. Again, asshole.

Example 3- I drop my laundry off to be done. I have been using the same service weekly for roughly two years. I just tipped them pretty well for Christmas. I get the laundry back and I have some holes in a brand new shirt. This is the third time this has happened there. I didn't complain about the other two times because the items were old and I really didn't care. However, I got to wear this particular shirt once. So DH goes to talk to them and their basic attitude is too bad. I become infuriated and go in. I am nice at first and tell the woman I usually deal with that this isn't the first time it's happened. We are loyal customers and the least you could do is give us a credit. (Mind you, we're talking about a $10 shirt. We're not asking for free service for a year.) She says, "I do your laundry. No one else does it. How do I know it didn't come in like that?" So I say, "If it came in like that, you would have seen it and you should have said something when it was picked up. You're telling me you're not even going to give us a credit for this?" "No." "Then you just lost loyal customers". Are you fucking kidding me? You didn't tell me there were holes in the shirt because there were no fucking holes in it when I dropped it off. In this economy you're going to tell customers to piss off? Oh and after some calculations, we realize that we've been charged 7 cents more a pound then the advertised price, probably since we've been bringing our laundry there.

Now I'm especially pissed off about example 3. Using some self-psychoanalysis, I think I've figured out what bothers me most of all about this. I value honesty very highly. I don't steal and do my best to do the right thing by people, even when I think some of those people should be lit on fire. But I digress. What bothers me about this is that I feel I wasn't valued as a customer who does the right thing by people (i.e. tipping for the holidays, spreading the word when I feel businesses are excellent). I feel I was looked at as a degenerate just trying to get over, a liar, someone who would really piss me off. I'd like to believe I'm not like that and I'm pissed that someone may be looking at me in that way.

These are just 3 examples of why I believe any industry involving any type of service has gone to shit. You don't treat customers like they're worthless to you. Repeat business is vital. Don't get me started on this economy and why so many businesses are going under because of it. But I will say, there are a lot of people out there in business for themselves that have no business managing anything. They don't have the slightest idea how to treat people. I guess that explains why they can't work for someone else either. They'd never last in a job where they'd actually have to respect a boss or co-workers they see on a daily basis.

I think I'm going to open a laundromat. I mean shit. I don't have to use my brain. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. I'll get rich by ripping customers off! And I'd be so well off that I can treat customers however the hell I want. There are a lot of people I'd like to tell to go fuck themselves. That sounds like the perfect job for me!

"I'm in so much pain I feel like I'm in a Cure song"

I have to give credit to my husband for this comment that made me laugh so hard today I almost peed. "I'm in so much pain I feel like I'm in a Cure song". Absolutely fucking hysterical.

Now for those of you who don't know a) why he's in pain or b) who The Cure is, well if it's b, you're just a fucking idiot. The explanation for reason a is that DH hurt his back badly at work and needs surgery. To make it worse, NYC got about a foot of snow dumped on it this weekend. DH had to shovel out his car because my attempt at it was feeble. So he made his back worse.

Now back to b. OK. I shouldn't call you a fucking idiot if you don't know who The Cure is. But really, you are. The Cure is a band that formed in the late 70's and gained a lot of popularity throughout the 80's. It is an offshoot of the goth/punk scene. I will not get into the history of goth 101. It will take too long and I'm making dinner so no history lesson for you! (Said in my best Soup Nazi voice.) The Cure is considered one of the all time greatest goth bands. I will not debate whether or not their sound is gothic. I will not debate whether or not they are considered goth because of Fat Bob's appearance. (Robert Smith is the singer and main member of The Cure. He is sometimes lovingly and not so lovingly referred to as Fat Bob. I say it with love.) Let's just say for all intents and purposes, The Cure is a gothic band.

Being a gothic band, they should, or at least they used to, have a somewhat depressing sound and/or lyrics. They are often used in jokes in more mainstream movies and tv shows when referring to goth. (Think Adam Sandler talking to Drew Barrymore about listening to a lot of Cure stuff when he was left at the altar in the Wedding Singer.) This is probably due to a lot of old Cure fans now in positions where their taste in music can be shared with the mainstream. But I digress.

So what makes this absolutely hysterical to me is that DH does not like The Cure. I am a huge fan of older Cure material and have been for as long as I can remember. My close friends are as well. However, DH is not nor was he ever. This was a problem when I met him. When talking with friends, I divulged that he did not like The Cure. We all agreed that he and I should not be together. So much for that. I married the bastard. Again, I digress.

So DH doesn't like The Cure but uses them to illustrate just how much pain he's in. Now I ask you, if he didn't like them on some level, how would he know enough to use them in his joke? Maybe he's just making fun. Maybe he's really a closet Cure fan. (That would be fucking awesome!)

So Mr. Smith, if you ever happen upon this, yes I call you Fat Bob. No I shouldn't. But I do. However, it is with the utmost love and admiration that I call you by that name. It is a bizarre form of flattery.

To DH, come out of The Cure closet. It's ok. I'll even hold your hand.

To those of you who really don't know who the hell The Cure is, I really feel terribly sorry for you.

EDIT: I had a link up to a video I found on youtube but it was taken down. Just search The Cure. It's good for you!

Sangria and pulp

I love Sangria. Let it be said here and now, I love Sangria. I like it red, white, pink. I do not care the type. I like it.

However, what I do not like is the pulp that inevitably finds its way into my glass. I do not like pulp in my glass. I do not like pulp in my ass. (Sorry it rhymed and I've been drinking some guess what? Sangria!) OK enough Dr. Seuss.

Dear God of Sangria (who may at one time have been known as Bacchus or Dionysus but is now recognized as my husband):

I revel in how you make my beloved drink. I love the fruit you put in it. I like your choices of wine and other various alcohols. I truly enjoy that special secret ingredient that gives it that little zap of flavor and effervescence. And I love you for the fact that you make this for me.

However, oh God of the Beloved Drink, my teeth are not strainers! Holy shit do I hate pulp. I go to get my drink on, my mouth all watering for the yumminess my tastebuds are about to savor and damn it! There it is. Little teeny weeny bits of citrus fruit that decide they want to take a trip out of the pitcher. They don't want to stop in the glass. No, apparently, the glass is not exciting enough. Do they think it's as boring as the kiddie pool in the amusement park? There's no kiddie piss in there. I swear there isn't.

No, these little bastards want to go on the super duper water slide that is my throat and splash down in the big deep pool that is my stomach. They want to go on a fun, albeit terrorizing, journey in the dark at super high speeds. Well you know what? Fucking no. No. No. No. Learn the word no. It's good for you. No.

But you know, now that I think about it, it's not just Sangria. It's any drink made from a citrus fruit that I can't stand when it has pulp. I hate orange juice with pulp. I like orange juice but not with pulp.

I liken it to a bad sexual experience. I liken it to the experience of going down on someone really hot and finding something that shouldn't be there. How ya like it now?

Thanks friends!

I want to thank Amy and Cracker for doing their best to try to help me with my boredom. Ms. Amy, I just finished the first book. I was giggling like crazy. Thanks so much!
xoxo

Boredom

I cannot take it anymore. I simply cannot. (I'm on fire today. Can you tell?) I have been out of work for a while due to an injury. It's too long and annoying and embarrassing to get into. But let's just say, that no one would believe my tough girl persona if they knew how I got hurt. Anyway, that's not the point.

So I've been home for about a month now. I am not very mobile. I cannot really go anywhere except hobble my way to the doctor. Driving is difficult and so painful, it's nearly impossible. This is mostly because my car is a stick shift. *note to self, maybe caving in to an automatic might be the way to go on the next car purchase* So what can I do? I stay home.

Home is incredibly boring. To quote Johnny Rotten, "Boring boring boring". Except he was talking about sex and I would never ever say sex was boring, even if it was. Which it might often be. But I digress.

I stare at the walls in my tiny little apartment all day long. Holy moly I cannot stand it! It's bad enough that we went with neutral colors when we painted and bought furniture so everything is tan or beige or a light brown. And yes that shows we're grown ups now. But it's a whole other story when I have to stare at it all day long. My god it inspires nothing! I am in a sea of nothingness. Nothing exciting, nothing to do, no one to do. How sad is this? This is awful.

Now, I could try to have fun and play with the dog all day. Unfortunately, she sleeps almost all day long because she's old. And since I can't move around all that well, not running around much really isn't fun for a dog. So much for that idea.

So what can I do? And yeah, I've already thought of fucking myself. That only takes up so much time when one is alone so try another idea wise ass. I'm up for other suggestions. So come on. Drop me a note and give me an idea. I've already come up with the idea of writing this blog. But since I'm not doing a whole lot during the day, I only have so much to write about. Maybe I could find a producer? Look for a new job- one where I don't need to dress up in protective gear like my favorite goalie Henrik Lundqvist.

What's the expression? Idle hands are the devil's tools? Well I'm trying to keep out of trouble. However, I firmly intend to take over Hell when I get there so maybe I should just start practicing now.