Saturday, January 22, 2011

Kiddo and Ramona's Next Adventure

Here's the big announcement as a QR code:


If you're not tech-savvy, you'll have to read this long, drawn-out post to find out what it says. Or you could just scroll to the bottom. But that would be like digging through the Lucky Charms to find the 3-D sticker, instead of letting it fall into your bowl as nature intended. Is there a child alive who actually waited for that crap? In my house, you had to dig for the prize before one of the other three kids stole it. As a matter of fact, you had to get up early and race to the breakfast table to be the first to open the new cereal box. Wait? Pshaw. No little sister of mine was going to get to the color-changing plastic spoon first. You've already read the end of this blog, haven't you?

Let me tell you a story about a girl trying to find her place in this crazy, mixed-up world.

After high school in Virginia, I found myself in South Carolina. I wish someone had talked me out of this. Yes, I got to wear a hat that said COCKS. Yes, because I was on the swim team, there were plenty of t-shirts about being the 'Cocks and being wet, fast and strong. Yes, I got hazed and lived to tell about it. But I was miserable there. We went on a field trip to the swamp. The swamp.


So I left and came back to Virginia for a spell. I had a good time at JMU. I met some of my bestest besties there, and I went to my first bar - when I turned 21. (Loooooserrrr.) I ordered a Miller Lite and a Coke. And I drank the Coke. But eventually I got bored and decided to move.

I picked Portland, Oregon. I don't know why. I think I saw it on TV and it seemed like a nice place. Plus I was friends with a bunch of dreadlock-sporting, nag champa-burning, Birkenstock-wearing hippies at JMU. I'm positive Oregon came up at some point. I worked for 1-800-Remotes, worked at a pub with frequent trashy girl fights, and occasionally attended art school.


Then I woke up one morning and decided I wanted to be a flight attendant. So I moved to Dallas. I did a lot less flying the first year than drinking beer, flirting with dudes, getting my acrylics (ew, ew, ew) done, and lounging by my apartment pool. That year was like one long vacation. Of course, that was reflected in our pay. It's OK - a friend of mine carried ginormous purses...big enough to sneak beers into bars and popcorn into movie theaters. Hey, you do what you have to do to survive.


Sadly, our Dallas base closed that year. I got sent to the booming metropolis of...Salt Lake City. The mountains are pretty and stuff, but that place gave me the creeps. I don't mean to offend anyone who's a Mormon, but while I'm inspecting a zit in the ladies' or chowing on Sbarro at the mall are not the times to solicit me about becoming a member. Just because I look like a sad, lonely individual with pepperoni on my flannel shirt doesn't mean that I am one. Now if you had thrown in some incentives - say, a discount on my wireless plan, a gym membership - I might have considered it. But I'm a modern consumer, so some crappy little pamphlet is not going to do the trick.

Then I got sent to Atlanta. Let me just get this out of the way: I hate Atlanta. Some people are really down with the A-town, but I find it dirty and hot, and full of traffic and rude people. It didn't help that my job as a flight attendant was becoming more and more draining. I was minutes from pulling a Steven Slater. I decided it was time to get serious and finish my degree, or I might be dealing with pissy, entitled frequent fliers and wearing polyester forevah.


So I moved back to Dallas.


I started J-school. (That just sounds cool, and I'm pretty sure it only counts if you went to like, Columbia or something, but whatever. I totally went to J-school.) After two exhausting years of juggling full-time school, a job and internships...


...I graduated.


I scored an awesome job...


...and was laid off nearly immediately.


Next stop: New Jersey. I mean, duh, right? I love love loved living there. I started out in Newark, which made me pretty hard-core right off the bat, and eventually moved to Hoboken. I became a public transportation convert, a pizza connoisseur, and a lovable asshole. I even perfected my fish-face.


(Good, right?) But as everyone knows, you can take the girl out of Texas...


Seriously, it's like Texas has some kind of Star Trek magnetic sucky tractor beam or something. Wouldn't you know it, I plopped right back down in Dallas in 2009. Damn you Texas, I just can't resist the lure of your delicious greasy state fair food. Mmmm, fried cheesecake...Ggglgllgggg...

So now, sweet readers (all four of you), I'm moving on. I'm going to DC to try my hand at politics. Bwahahaha! Just kidding. I'm pretty sure you have to at least keep up with what's going on in the world to have a chance at election in this country. Oh...wait...

But for real, I'm moving to DC Friday. I'm pretty pumped. I'm not really cool with the fact that if we're ever nuked, I'm going down, but I am super excited about Shmuffins.

P.S. Everyone keep your fingers crossed for Ramona. She passed inspection, barely, but she is not pleased about being dragged on another long trip.

4 comments:

Sara Louise said...

Go you! Good luck on your road trip north and your new adventure! :-)

You're Lucky I Don't Have a Gun... said...

you're moving farther away from me and i'm not sure how i feel about this.

Grant said...

I was eager to hear more about NJ, but I have a feeling you left it out on purpose :(

Still no phone call from your DC employer. Guess they are still working on your background check. Given how often you've moved, that could be quite a task.

Good luck in DC. Please keep us [four] readers up to date on everything.

AdoMatic said...

I just saw on the in.tranet that you had left - I'm so clueless. Sorry I missed all the sappy goodbyes and good lucks so I'll just say it here: best of luck and cheers to the great big Texas tractor beam - y'all come back now.