I am currently sans occupation. It is an interesting time in my life to find myself in this situation. I get the opportunity to redefine myself and figure out what it is that I want to do with my life, what direction I want to go in. The possibilities are endless. And I have no clue where to start.
So what does any normal person do when faced with a difficult decision? I have no idea. For me, I have decided to test the waters by dabbling in several different areas over the past two weeks.
I started out very slowly at first but a family medical crisis soon helped me try out my first new occupation, that of the Candy Striper.
Now this is no easy job. I spent 8 hours a day at the hospital visiting, comforting and feeding family. In addition, I was forced to act as a mediator and therapist as drama of epic proportions broke out. I found that although I was good at this particular endeavor, it was physically, mentally and emotionally draining. I decided to seek employment elsewhere.
My next job was that of a personal stylist. Eboogie enlisted my help and we hit DSW and the mall over the weekend. I was excited. This was something I could be good at and enjoy at the same time. Perhaps I had found my niche.
It was not to be. The shopping was fine. I tried to help Eboogie find and define her sense of style, but I was constantly distracted by shoes, clothes and other things I was not allowed to buy. I only have so much willpower (I only bought ONE pair of shoes) However, sans occupation means sans money and if I stayed on this path, I would be in the red. I had to move on.
The newest career move was that of the personal chauffeur. In an effort to help out my already stressed out family (see above family medical crisis) I offered to drive my cousin to school yesterday morning to give my aunt more time at the hospital. Having to get up at 7:30 a.m. is torture for me but I figured what the hell. It's only one day, right?
Wrong. When I went to pick up the man yesterday morning, he offered me $10 and said "My mom wanted to know if you would bring me to school everyday this week." My jaw hit the floor and I mumbled "Sure, no problem."
As we were driving to school, I asked him to identify the big yellow vehicle that I was driving behind.
Dan: "Oh, that's the school bus."
McDougall: "Why are you not on it?"
Dan: "Because it comes mad early."
McDougall: "Hmmm, that is interesting seeing as I am driving RIGHT BEHIND IT."
I have decided that this job should actually be title "Professional Sucker." This morning when I got up to bring him at the ungodly hour of the morning, he wasn't even there. McDougall was not happy.
Thankfully, I got another job offer before 8:00 a.m. this morning. I received a phone call from a friend asking me to help her get into shape. So there it is...my job this week is to be a personal trainer.
I think I may enjoy this one as it will force me to go to the gym and I can boss someone else around and they may actually listen to me. That will be a first!
Anyway, this should keep me occupied for the rest of the week until I have to try out my next career, the accountant. I am not looking forward to that one.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Sunday, February 26, 2006
The International Supermodel
For fear that I am going to come across as an egomaniacal, stuck up bitch, I must start out this post by saying I really don't get it. I am not a hottie, a babe or any other type of girl who generally attracts male attention. Actually, I can't even get a date. In this country at least. But for some reason unbeknownst to me, I have discovered that I am actually a supermodel in non-English speaking countries. I don't know why or how but it is true.
This phenomenon first came to our attention on our first visit to Mexico in January 2002. My family and I were shopping in a little town call Costa Maya. Here, we encountered that typical "flea market" atmosphere. Venders calling to you, trying to get you into their tent, the incessant bargaining and all that entails. I was kind of wandering aimlessly taking it all in when vendors started offering me things for free. I thought this was a little strange but dismissed it. A few minutes later, my sister Eboogie was pulled aside by another vendor.
Vendor: "Are you here with that girl?" (pointing to me, lingering about 20 feet away)
Eboogie: "Yeah, she is my sister."
Vendor: "Well stay here and talk to me. Maybe she will come over if she sees you talking to me."
It happened again three separate times in Paris in 2004. The first incident was at a restaurant where we were having dinner. The waiter brought me a free glass of orange juice and a free plate of French fries. This may not seem like a big deal. But in Paris where a "Coca Light" cost as much as a bottle of wine here, orange juice is like gold. Here I am with suitor #2, Gail B and T-Bone. Notice the glass of juice on the table.
I caused a ruckus at dinner the following night as well. I have to take eyewitness accounts of what happened as my back was to the action. Apparently I was causing traffic jam as the busboy nearly walked into another waiter and dropped his tray as he was staring at me. He later came over and started whispering sweet nothings in my ear. For reference, they do sound much better in French.
My last Parisian man was a little scarier of an encounter. He came over to Eboogie and me in the Metro station and started spouting off poetry about how beautiful my eyes were. Again this was in French and my limited understanding could only pick up ever other word. When the train came, we got on quickly and moved to another car. He followed. I had my first official stalker as a supermodel. We got off at the next stop and waited there for a different train.
While planning our most recent trip to Mexico, the teasing about my supermodel status began. I didn't buy into all of the hoopla but my indifference was for naught. I was still as highly sought out as ever.
We took a shore excursion in Puerto Vallarta where we rode mules to the top of the mountain, zip lined across 250 drops and repelled down 80 foot waterfalls. We were wearing helmets and were covered head to toe with Mexican jungle water and mud. I was also covered with mosquito bites (In an ironic coincidence, mosquitoes at home rarely bite me. Even the Mexican mosquitoes find me more attractive then the ones here.)
There was no looking cute.
Despite this, I managed to pick up yet another forgein man without trying. By the end of our trip, one of our guides had given me some sort of cute Spanish nickname, proposed to me and had gotten himself invited to my sister's wedding. When we returned from our jungle adventure, he promptly picked me up and tried to run away with me. Literally. Here is the proof:
This phenomenon first came to our attention on our first visit to Mexico in January 2002. My family and I were shopping in a little town call Costa Maya. Here, we encountered that typical "flea market" atmosphere. Venders calling to you, trying to get you into their tent, the incessant bargaining and all that entails. I was kind of wandering aimlessly taking it all in when vendors started offering me things for free. I thought this was a little strange but dismissed it. A few minutes later, my sister Eboogie was pulled aside by another vendor.
Vendor: "Are you here with that girl?" (pointing to me, lingering about 20 feet away)
Eboogie: "Yeah, she is my sister."
Vendor: "Well stay here and talk to me. Maybe she will come over if she sees you talking to me."
It happened again three separate times in Paris in 2004. The first incident was at a restaurant where we were having dinner. The waiter brought me a free glass of orange juice and a free plate of French fries. This may not seem like a big deal. But in Paris where a "Coca Light" cost as much as a bottle of wine here, orange juice is like gold. Here I am with suitor #2, Gail B and T-Bone. Notice the glass of juice on the table.
I caused a ruckus at dinner the following night as well. I have to take eyewitness accounts of what happened as my back was to the action. Apparently I was causing traffic jam as the busboy nearly walked into another waiter and dropped his tray as he was staring at me. He later came over and started whispering sweet nothings in my ear. For reference, they do sound much better in French.
My last Parisian man was a little scarier of an encounter. He came over to Eboogie and me in the Metro station and started spouting off poetry about how beautiful my eyes were. Again this was in French and my limited understanding could only pick up ever other word. When the train came, we got on quickly and moved to another car. He followed. I had my first official stalker as a supermodel. We got off at the next stop and waited there for a different train.
While planning our most recent trip to Mexico, the teasing about my supermodel status began. I didn't buy into all of the hoopla but my indifference was for naught. I was still as highly sought out as ever.
We took a shore excursion in Puerto Vallarta where we rode mules to the top of the mountain, zip lined across 250 drops and repelled down 80 foot waterfalls. We were wearing helmets and were covered head to toe with Mexican jungle water and mud. I was also covered with mosquito bites (In an ironic coincidence, mosquitoes at home rarely bite me. Even the Mexican mosquitoes find me more attractive then the ones here.)
There was no looking cute.
Despite this, I managed to pick up yet another forgein man without trying. By the end of our trip, one of our guides had given me some sort of cute Spanish nickname, proposed to me and had gotten himself invited to my sister's wedding. When we returned from our jungle adventure, he promptly picked me up and tried to run away with me. Literally. Here is the proof:
I am not really sure what the reason is for all of this international attention. We do attribute it to the language barrier as I was not quite so hot in Ireland or the UK. But, for whatever reason, the normal girl who can't get a date in the US is a bonafide hottie elsewhere.
Perhaps this is why I like traveling so much?
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
The Strongly Worded Letter
Every now and then, I get so infuriated by injustice, evildoers or something that is just plain wrong, I am prompted to take a stand. This is a a sidebar to my ever popular attempts to "Fight the Power" by boycotting. This is the more proactive approach when I just cannot keep my mouth shut any longer. Enter the Strongly Worded Letter (SWL).
I have found great success and personal satisfaction in the use of the SWL. CBS and Gillette are two of the companies who have had the privilege of receiving my wrath. Thankfully, both came to their senses and promptly thanked me for my feedback with free stuff. A word of caution however, if you are in it for the freebies, don't bother. Ulterior motives cloud SWLers in a negative way. You have to write it pure of heart. It comes out as more sincere that way.
Excessive use of the SWL renders it ineffective. Your success ratio will drop dramatically and your pure, unadulterated anger will greatly decrease if you are drafting SWLers once a week. No, you have to save this type of protest for only the most offensive, rage inducing scenarios.
I have even been asked to write SWLers for friends and family members to which I always reply with a emphatic NO. It is not my battle and rage does not translate if it is not your own. Ghostwriting SWLer grossly waters down the potency of the message, therefore rendering them ineffective.
Today I wrote the motherload of the SWL. This is my SuperBowl of letters. I ws so enraged in fact that I had to wait a full week to write it for fear that my comments would reflect just how pissed off I was in a negative way and cloud the validity of my message.
So I say that if you are faced with true injustice or something that flat out pisses you off and you are harping on it for more then a couple of days, don't just sit idly by. Break out those writing skills and take a stand. Make your feelings known. That is your right.
Fight the Power!
I have found great success and personal satisfaction in the use of the SWL. CBS and Gillette are two of the companies who have had the privilege of receiving my wrath. Thankfully, both came to their senses and promptly thanked me for my feedback with free stuff. A word of caution however, if you are in it for the freebies, don't bother. Ulterior motives cloud SWLers in a negative way. You have to write it pure of heart. It comes out as more sincere that way.
Excessive use of the SWL renders it ineffective. Your success ratio will drop dramatically and your pure, unadulterated anger will greatly decrease if you are drafting SWLers once a week. No, you have to save this type of protest for only the most offensive, rage inducing scenarios.
I have even been asked to write SWLers for friends and family members to which I always reply with a emphatic NO. It is not my battle and rage does not translate if it is not your own. Ghostwriting SWLer grossly waters down the potency of the message, therefore rendering them ineffective.
Today I wrote the motherload of the SWL. This is my SuperBowl of letters. I ws so enraged in fact that I had to wait a full week to write it for fear that my comments would reflect just how pissed off I was in a negative way and cloud the validity of my message.
So I say that if you are faced with true injustice or something that flat out pisses you off and you are harping on it for more then a couple of days, don't just sit idly by. Break out those writing skills and take a stand. Make your feelings known. That is your right.
Fight the Power!
The Story of Me
If I have learned anything over the years of screenwriting, TV writing and narrative storytelling classes I have taken, it is the consistency of the three act structure. Meaning that Act One is the set up and background telling section, translating to the first 30 minutes of screen time. Act Two is spun off in a new direction, setting up the action, drama, etc that will be the meat of the story or the next 60 minutes of screen time. Last is Act Three where the conflict is resolved and everyone lives happily ever after. That is how it works in the movies.
Real life is a little different. But is does translate.
I have just hit on plot point one which has officially taken me into Act Two of my story. This story started back in 2001 when the new fresh faced, optimistic college graduate set out to take on the world by storm. The last five years have been my set up and background.
Since then, a lot has happened to this character. Notably, all of the dead weight is gone. The fat has been trimmed. My life has been spun in a new direction and the girl who hates change is looking forward to not knowing what is going to happen next.
Things don't always work out the way you plan. But they do happen for a reason. At this point, I only have notes on what Act Two will entail and I believe that is a good start. I am looking forward to all of the complexities of life to come my way; the action, the drama, the heartbreak, the sweeping melodrama, the fun, the glory, the challenges, the fights, the tears and the journey of self discovery that ultimately leads to the resolution.
It's gonna be a good story.
Real life is a little different. But is does translate.
I have just hit on plot point one which has officially taken me into Act Two of my story. This story started back in 2001 when the new fresh faced, optimistic college graduate set out to take on the world by storm. The last five years have been my set up and background.
Since then, a lot has happened to this character. Notably, all of the dead weight is gone. The fat has been trimmed. My life has been spun in a new direction and the girl who hates change is looking forward to not knowing what is going to happen next.
Things don't always work out the way you plan. But they do happen for a reason. At this point, I only have notes on what Act Two will entail and I believe that is a good start. I am looking forward to all of the complexities of life to come my way; the action, the drama, the heartbreak, the sweeping melodrama, the fun, the glory, the challenges, the fights, the tears and the journey of self discovery that ultimately leads to the resolution.
It's gonna be a good story.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Shout Out from Sea
Greetings from the Norwegian Star! Right now, I am on day eight of my cruise, heading back to L.A. after spending 7 glorious days in the Mexican Riviera. Our ports of call included Manzinillo, Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlan and Cabo. Four of the most beautiful places I have ever seen and being the seasoned traveler I am, that is saying a lot.
There was a lot of interesting and funny stories to come out of this trip. However, I only paid for 30 minutes at the Internet Cafe and I am not quite quick witted enough to put together fun or cohesive stories in that short of time. Plus, I was dispatched to check the weather forecast to see if Connecticut is now buried under mass amounts of snow. The good side to that? Maybe I'll get stuck in L.A. for another day. Or Salt Lake City, which would be a new state for me on my quest to visit all 50.
Anyway, I am tan, tired, bitten and sore. The latter are from my days of adventure excursions that I'll get into later. But all in all, it was a fantastic trip and we got to celebrate Gail B's 50th in style. I am looking forward to getting home and not sleeping in a twin bunk bed above Mom & Dad.
So I'll sign off now because I have to go shower and primp for our last fancy dinner at sea.
Bon Voyage.
There was a lot of interesting and funny stories to come out of this trip. However, I only paid for 30 minutes at the Internet Cafe and I am not quite quick witted enough to put together fun or cohesive stories in that short of time. Plus, I was dispatched to check the weather forecast to see if Connecticut is now buried under mass amounts of snow. The good side to that? Maybe I'll get stuck in L.A. for another day. Or Salt Lake City, which would be a new state for me on my quest to visit all 50.
Anyway, I am tan, tired, bitten and sore. The latter are from my days of adventure excursions that I'll get into later. But all in all, it was a fantastic trip and we got to celebrate Gail B's 50th in style. I am looking forward to getting home and not sleeping in a twin bunk bed above Mom & Dad.
So I'll sign off now because I have to go shower and primp for our last fancy dinner at sea.
Bon Voyage.
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