Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum

Ok, so firstly, when I can't think of a title that pertains to what I'm talking about, I make something up. For example, today's title. It's a common thing, especially if I'm jumping around talking about everything to make something up. I do it all the time in e-mails. I think my favorite one of all time though was 'Chunky-dunks and Olympian chocolate cakes.' That was an e-mail title. Was I talking about either? Psh, no. But they saw the title and read it right away, which, in essence, is the meaning of an e-mail right?

So, now that that's all straightened out, on to today's topic, or for today, topics. So as an elective, I took Sociology. I wanted Word Power, but it was all taken, so I figured I could learn about everyone's personality dysfunctions, and tell them that they're screwed up. Jolly good fun. Turns out, if you want to analyze your friends, that's what Psychology, the study of individuals, is for. Not Sociology, the study of culture. Oops. But, I'm in it, and I've got to suck it up and deal. On most days, it's boring as all-get-out(which I really don't know what it means, but it's something about how bad it is) but today was an exception.

We're learning about culture, and how certain symbols mean something to a certain culture and nothing to another one. We got a paper with all the faces from AIM...And a few extras. Here's a few of my favorites:

%-} I think I've had too much to drink.

- : ( Somebody cut my hair into a Mohawk.

And, my personal favorite (if you haven't seen my profile):

+O:-) I've just been elected pope!

Oh, that's entertaining. I saw that and laughed non-stop for the rest of the period. Then, for the rest of the day, I went up to all my friends, demanded paper, and told them that I've just been elected pope along with my smiling face (it took me until the end of the day to realize that technically, if I've been elected pope, that little face is me. Weird stuff)...Or if they had no paper, I wrote it on a few arms as well. I'm just entertained too freaking easily....

Then, right after that class, I went to European History. Normally that class isn't horrible, but it's definitely not my favorite one. But today, we were learning about King Henry VIII. You all know him, six wives? Off with her head? Mhmm, him. If I wasn't very un-ghetto, I'd call him a pimp, but I'm short and Irish, I just can't go around talking like that. I'd get beaten up. Anyways, we were all assigned parts, and we had to research them and go in and tell everyone about the person. Well, my class has 13 people in it, so we got to double up. I was his last two wives, and because I was a queen, I got to wear a crown. It would have been more exciting if it wasn't really cheap, so it kept falling off my head, but not everyone got to wear a crown. So that just made my day better!

So, until next time, your---what would I be this time? Crazy title-loving, Sociology-loving, +O:-) I've just been elected pope!-loving, King Henry VIII-loving (is that all of it?) short girl.

And now, Survivor time. Ooh yes. Reality TV and me are TIGHT! Peace! Haahaa, just kidding. Did you really think I could pull that off? Yeah, right...Adios!

For every bad day, there's a good day

So Monday was not a good day. I forgot that I had a Physics test on Tuesday, and we were reviewing stuff that I have no idea about. Then I go to Calc and we're doing Trig. Trigonometry, I tell you, is not for the faint-hearted...Or the bad-memory-ed, like moi. Sixth period, Spanish four, eventually rolls around, too. How do I explain what is Spanish four?

Last year, my friend Dustin, constantly made fun of me because I told him I was doing Spanish four. "What are you going to learn? Honestly! And with Shaler teachers, you probably aren't doing the right thing anyways. So why bother taking a pointless class that could be taken up with a perfectly good study hall?" I told him that I was an overacheiver thank-you-very-much, and I was sticking to my guns and toughing out Spanish for one last year. Another fabuloso (Spanish...Oh la, la) decision here, folks! Ms. Israel is the craziest bat in the high school, excepting Zyhowski. Both are entirely too energetic, and one speaks a different language. Now, I whine daily about how much I despise Spanish (it's right before lunch, and I swear the clock stops) and Dustin just sits back and laughs.

Anyways, in Spanish we're learning about artists. Everyday Israel gives a picture from a particular artist and the next day, the kid has to have a five minute report to present-all in Spanish. Now, if we got more than one night's notice, I wouldn't care, but we don't. Guess who got picked for one? And not only one-this picture corresponds with another so I got to do two! Lucky me.

Yesterday was one of those days when I just knew it wasn't going to be good. I just had that feeling, you know? Yesterday I had a call-in for work. I knew the chances of me going in were slim to none, but I just knew that I didn't have the time to go in (five hour shifts people, five hours! From four to nine! That's the whole night!) and that they'd need me. Of course they did!

I wasn't too upset over going in because I need the money like nothing else, and I figure everyone wants to work in a clothes store, it has to be fun, right? Hah. Yesterday was inventory. That's why they needed me. I saw a total of maybe five customers, so it's not like they needed customer service. What I got to do was so much better. I had to go around to every item in the store, and pull the price tag out so it's seen (okay, so it wasn't just me, everyone else was doing it too, but it still sucked.). And then The piles had to be super-neat too. Everyone at Abercrombie has OCD, I swear. The shirts have to be exactly three inches from the edge of the table, the little stickers on the shirts have to be lined up exactly (now who looks at that, honestly?), and here's where it gets really bad: the hangers have to be evenly spaced. What?!?! Who looks at things like this? I'm the messiest person you will ever meet, and this was killing me. I had the nearly irresistible urge to run through the store and just pull everything off the tables, but I didn't because I'm a nice person. After that, I got to go back in the stockroom and count all the tags of everything. They were all in shelves and I had to count a shelf and then write down how many were on that particular shelf. It was tedious, to say the least.

The exciting part of the day was that I got to go home at 7:45 rather than 9 (woo-hoo!) because we had eight people working, and zero customers. They basically said, "We don't need you, go home." So I did.

I spent from the time I got home until about midnight working on my Spanish project. And I still didn't finish it. I'm horrible at Spanish, every other word was looked up in a Spanish translator. I barely got all my other homework done, and just forgot about Physics and went to bed really really late.

Read the post underneath this one because it's all one post, but it was too long so I had to break it up...Oops!

For every bad day, there's a good day con't

Today was a day that everything seemed to go right. I woke up this morning, dead tired, and asked my dad if I could please go back to sleep and skip my first few classes? "Um, what are you first few classes?"

"Physics."

"Don't you have a test in there?"

"It's more of a quiz, really, and I have a study hall tomorrow..."

"Okay, then." That was just about the greatest thing I ever heard. I collapsed back to sleep, and didn't wake up until 8:30. Yee-haw. I ate breakfast, straightened my hair, got dressed and was out the door at 9:35 (I know it seems like I take forever, but if you had the amount of hair that I do, and to straighten it? It's freaking scary. Before the straightener, I would have fit right in to 1985.).

So I get at school and get to park in the top lot. I was fairly excited with myself. Right when I walk into the building, the bell was ringing for in-between third and fourth period, at 9:42. I go into the attendance office, and give the secretary my note, and she goes, "Well, it's in-between classes, so you shouldn't need a note."

"My locker's like eons away from my fourth period, I would really appreciate it if you gave me a note."

"Well, alright then." She gave me a note that said 9:50 "to give me a few extra minutes." I was so excited. I spent the next eight minutes telling some people about how good of a day it was. It was pretty thrilling.

So sixth period eventually rolls around again, like it always does. I'm dreading it because me and public speaking are not friends. Never had been, never will be, and in another language? You're just asking for me to die. So I sit through two other people's reports, knowing that I, inevitably, will be next.

One of my friends told me to calm down, no one pays attention anyways. The kid in front of me (the shoe commenting kid) goes, "I'm going to pay attention!"

"Why would you do such a horrible thing?" I know I had the I-hate-you look on my face.

"Because then it wouldn't be me if I didn't." I kicked his chair, which turned out to do nothing because he's quite a bit larger than me.

After the kid finishes, my hearts going. I'm all nervous until..."Well, we just don't have time for the rest. We need to do verbs."

I was saved! I was practically dancing and bellowing the Hallelujah Chorus at that point. It was amazing. I was truly convinced that today was We Like Alex Day. It was a good feeling.

Then the Crapface (as I fondly call the kid who sits in front of me) goes, "It's your turn next," with a particular nasty smile.

"No, I don't. She said that I can go tomorrow." [big grin]

"You suck."

"I'm awesome." He tried to think of a comeback, but Israel screamed, "Silencio estudiantes!" and when I say screamed, I mean it literally. Every once in a while, she'll just screech a word, because "it makes you pay attention, and I'm trying to make it fun for you." Just another classic Shaler teacher.

I know this is really long, sorry, but I had to tell you my bad day turned good. So yee-haw for two hours' extra sleep and no Physics and Calculus all around!

Stupid Abercrombie!

Ok, so I know I'm a loser (it's mentioned about every post, everyone should know this by now...) but I was thrilled, thrilled to go to work. I quit the grocery as soon as they said, "Come to orientation." I went to work and quickly informed them that today was my last day. One of the best feelings ever. Especially when I totally ignored their orders and had no fear because what could they do, fire me?

So two Sundays ago, I went to orientation, decked out in Abercrombie head-to-toe...Or, well, I would be if I owned more than two shirts and no pants or shoes from there. I guess I need to get up to scratch on the whole Abercrombie-clothes thing, but I have a discount now, and that should help. So anyways, I go in and they give the average, what to wear, jewelry, being on time, you know the drill. So we all get ready to leave, and someone asks when we'd start work.

"Um, well, they already made the schedule for this week, so just call in and ask for your schedule on Thursday." Well, we all know how that excursion worked out, so let's not go into details.

But, the main thing of the story was that today I had a call-in, aka call and if I'm needed, I go in, if not, bummer. I understand that the chances of me going in on a call-in are slim to none, but I try to remain optimistic, until I find out I'm wrong...And people ask me why I'm a pessimist, about my life anyways...If you're anyone else, I'm optimistic, if you're me, you've got issues.

So I have no idea what to say, and I'm not so excited over the fact that I have to call in because my voice somewhat resembles Minnie Mouse's on the tele. What drives me nuts is when those stupid tele-marketers call and go, "Is your mommy or daddy home little girl?"

I generally yell something along the lines of, "I'm 17 so go screw yourself!" Hanging up, and then feeling bad for being mean to a stranger.

Anyways (sorry, I can't seem to stay on track tonight to save my life) I call in sounding like a ten-year-old, "Um, hi, this is Alex Park...Um...I was told to call in today to work....So do you guys like need me?"

"Hang on." I was put on hold for a few minutes, listening to some overly bouncy weird dance mix, to which I nearly gagged all over the phone (I can't stand that music!) "Uh..We're over-booked already, so don't come in."

"Uhm, ok, thanks anyways!"

Oh, I was mad. I have zero money do to the fact of gas prices (ugh) and the fact that if I have cash, I'll spend it. So currently, I'm reduced to babysitting for my neighbors for like all of my Saturday. I'm excited...

Another year-long post

So today's post is half a enter-Alex's-sorry-life story, but it's more of a I don't understand, and need answers post! First off, I want to say, I'm not questioning this to offend anyone; I just truly don't know the answer.

So, let's get to it. Guys wearing girl pants. I don't understand. It seems only emo kids wear them, but I can't imagine that it would be comfortable. They aren't made for guys, so you wouldn't think there'd be enough room in there for everything, would you? No one seems to know the answer to this problem, much like the one where you only have $20-shoes or purse? problem. I asked one kid and he had no comments on the situation...I waited for ten minutes for a reply, and no dice. Either he was ignoring me or had nothing to say on the subject. Another kid answered, but all he said was, "I don't know, I'm not emo, ask one."

I would ask one, except I've been branded as a 'prep' (when did this happen? I remember being second grade wearing a blue tie-dye Lion King shirt to school a lot) and I'm very afraid that they will either laugh at me until I leave (except I've rarely seen one smile, have you?) or they will threaten me with...Oh, I don't know...Something nasty, with big pointy teeth. So I just don't know. Again, I don't mean to offend anyone, if the guys who wear those do so for personal uniqueness, more power to you...I just don't have the slightest clue why. So if anyone knows the answer to this issue, please leave a comment amongst all the spam.

Now, to my pathetic life. So today was picture day. Where do I begin? Last year, I was standing in line, talking to one of my friends about how before I left for school that day, my mother gave me a really long lecture on 'smiling normally.' Apparently, I'm one of those losers who, when faced with a camera, will either immediately duck, or make a face that somewhat resembles me getting tortured, but not quite a smile. So, I'm talking, and it's my turn. The photographer heard me talking about my 'smiling dilemma,' and cracked a joke. I giggle, and CLICK. Holy crap, did he really just take that as my school picture?

"OK, next! Good job!"

"Was...Was that my picture?"

"Uh-huh..NEXT!"

I stumble off the stage in a state of shock. "That craphole just took a picture of me-laughing! With my mouth wide open! LAUGHING!" I mumbled to my friend. She's cracking up because she thinks this is another one of Alex's exaggerated stories, but oh, no. This is the honest-to-God truth. The pictures develop, and there's me, giggling like a geek. Of course, I couldn't get re-takes 'cause I came home, set the pictures on the kitchen counter, and went somewhere. While I was gone, my grandparents stopped by and took the liberty of taking their fair share of grandkid's pictures. So I couldn't return them with half gone. Horrible.

The year before that, my hair was only to my shoulders, and curled out. I looked like the 15-year-old version of Nancy Drew. And the rest of the pictures are too painful to go into. I was on the phone with my mother yesterday after I got home from school, discussing...Or, well, me moping and her cracking up, on how zero school pictures ever look normal. So, this is my last shot 'cause Senior pictures are different, I can't wait until I take those, and I think I did okay, so knock on wood.

The real issue was that I was walking down the hall today, and I walk past my English classroom. My teacher's in there and a lot of people I thought I didn't know. Little did I know...

"Oh my God, Alex?"

"What happened?!"

"When you walked past Frazier's room this morning, someone said something about how tiny you are and how big your shoes were and the whole class was laughing at you." With friends like this, who needs enemies? I was pretty freaking embarrassed (this out-shines the whole forgetting to take off the tag on my shirt fiasco of yesterday by a mile) especially because I didn't have English yet.

So, I was sitting in Spanish, telling a few people about my problem, and the kid in front of me turns around and says, "Did you just say tiny pussy, big shoes?"

I stare at him like he's turned orange. "Noo..I said tiny people, big shoes...."

"Oh, all right then. Carry on." And he just turned around and went back to what he was doing. People like that confuse me.

Ok, well this was entirely too long of a post, sorry again. I need to find a way to shut myself up. But until next time, the un-photogenic, short, with big shoes, and bad grammar, Alex!

A very long post, get excited!

This is my second post in two days, I'm actually getting good at this stuff! So today my first debit card came in. It was very exciting. I don't know why exactly I'm so hyper about it, but it seems important. Before I forget go to Carinne's site and read the topmost post. Too too funny.

So today, I had to cash my last check (LAST CHECK!!) from Giant Eagle. I walk into the bank because my dad told me just to do that because I have no idea how to use the MAC machines. So I go up to the front desk, wait in line, wait in line, and wait in line some more. Finally it was my turn; the front desk guy, listens to me babble as I explain that I have no idea what I have to do in a bank, how to put this check into my account, or anything of the sort. After all my waiting, all he has to say is, "Go to the teller for that."

Me and my supreme knowledge of banking, big innocent smile, "The what?"

Big smile and a you're-short-and-stupid-I-pity-you-rather-than-despise-you look, "Follow me."

We go to the huge line that you would think would be in the front of the building, but of course it's not. I completely walk past the 'Enter Here' sign, and stand outside those little black rope-ish things that mark the line, looking totally stupid, until some man in the line felt sorry for me and told me that I actually need to get in the line if I wanted to get help. That was a pretty good job on my part.

Then, I'm standing in line, and because I have the attention span of around a four-year-old (and the spelling to go along with it, thank God for spell check) I'm texting some of my friends, and getting mean looks from this old woman behind me, God forbid having friends. So, by some luck, this lady comes out and asks if anyone in line was just cashing a check. It was fairly exciting.

So I go over there, feeling extremely happy over the fact that I know longer have to stand in the 20 minute long line with the screaming baby in it, and the lady goes, "Ok, do you have a deposit slip?"

"Um...I don't think so. Actually, I don't know what it is, so I just might...What is it exactly?" What it turned out to be was a little slip that you write how much money you're depositing and that's about it. The big trouble about this was the fact that Giant Eagle checks have to be the most messed up ever. They don't have a verification thing on the back, or any of those lines that normal checks do, nothing. It's just this gross brown-ish gray color.

Severe look, like I'm trying to cheat on a math test, "Is this a real check?"

And for that look, I plan on being fully obnoxious, "Uh-huh. They've given it to me every week for a looong time."

Then I felt bad because I think she was new because she asked for help from none other than Front Desk Man. He looked only too happy to see me again. After me screwing up several times (I believe that you should always get a few more chances in life, more often than not, I mess my first attempt up pretty awesomely), I finally got out of there in relatively good time.

My next stop was the mall. I was told to just call in for my schedule, but the problem was that in the handbook they gave us, there's about twelve numbers, all of them starting in 1-800. So rather than calling all of them and listening to annoying voice message people, I figured I would just go in. Considering I work at Abercrombie kids, I walk in there and all those who work there think I'm 14. I explain I work there and want my schedule. I get questioned the same questions by two different guys, and get my whopping schedule. I work once this week. Once. And it's a call-in. Which means that if they don't need me, I don't go in. And don't get paid. I left Giant Eagle because of too many hours, now I'm getting none. I need to find the middle man.

It's abso-freaking-lutely (Ok, so I saw someone on the show Sex and the City say 'absoultely' like that, only with a different 'F' word in the middle, and I've really wanted to say that, and yeah, I know I'm a loser. It works for me.) confusing, and sorry about the long post (those rare few who actually read this...) but it's Friday night, and I'm grounded (see previous post) and everyone else is out and I'm sooo bored. Just to make up for this mammoth post, I probably won't post for a while...But if I don't:

GO STEELERS!

No More Grocery!!!

I'm so excited! Today I get to go and get my last paycheck from the Grocery. I finally got my job at Abercrombie (yee-haw!) and got out of there. That was one of the best days ever knowing I'd never work there again. Woot. So right now I'm drinking Mt. Dew, blasting some music and just feeling good about myself. It's pretty awesome.

Monday was another good day. Kennywood with some friends...I really think I could live on their bacon cheddar fries. Five times on the Phantom. Way too much fun. We were already planning on coming back for Phantom Fright Nights when we realized that it was nine, which is when we were supposed to be home...Not leaving, but in Shaler. My dad was worried 'cause the Kennywood neighborhood isn't too nice, but my mom is a complete other story. I wasn't too worried because people only mug cars that seem like they have money, and my holy '97 Malibu doesn't fit the description.

We got home 20 minutes later, which I thought was pretty exciting how considering how I went the wrong way twice (once I thought the directions were wrong so I went straight and didn't turn, and ended up pulling a U-turn and getting honked at. Oops. The next time, the directions didn't say to go left or right so I picked one and was wrong. So I ended up pulling into a field where a lacrosse team was playing (woot!) and having to ask directions. So it took about 45 minutes to an hour to get there and only 20 minutes to go home. Pretty freaking exciting.

Not too much else is going on except my older sister, Carinne, is doing Sorority Rush this weekend, so go to her blog and leave a comment of encouragement (I deserve a medal, I'm such a nice sister...)!

Well, I'll update when I have something exciting that happens or the creative writing jazz comes back.