Starting out is always the most difficult thing isn't it? I'll pretend I'm in an A.A. meeting.
"Hello, my name is Jess and I have a problem with addiction."
I am not an alcoholic, but I certainly have a problem with addiction. I can become addicted to anything as long as it stands still long enough for me to discover its good qualities. The day before yesterday, yesterday, and today I have been addicted to Trueblood on HBO. I don't get HBO; instead I put 33 dollars on my Visa to rent the entire series in it's entirity from Blockbuster and then watched 11 hours of television in 3 days. I hardly watch any television so this is a feet indeed.
The way this blog came about was that I was in the break room of my infuriating part-time job at a grocery store, talking about how difficult it is to watch any show with sex in it and not look like you're watching porn when your parents walk by. There you are, minding your own business, watching two people ass-naked on the screen moaning while you simultaneously try to turn down the volume by one-tick incraments so that the passionate screaming doesn't carry down the hall because your parents might notice you've turned down the sound. Heaven forbid they come into your room and see you SNEAKILY watching almost porn. That's worse than watching it in the living room and inviting them to join you in your HBO-rgasm-athon. My parents are the worst because instead of pretending they didn't see two people sweaty and humping, they'll throw open my door and say, with as much mirth as possible "Jessie! What on EARTH are you watching...*hahahaha*" But no amount of mirth can cover up the fact that I am in a room alone with the lights off, my face lit only by the red tinted light from the screen of the TV. I say "Trueblood" and my mom tries to look less embarrassed than she feels, but fails. So you turn the sound up a bit more and deal with the facts becuase lets face it:
You WANT to watch it with the volume up, because its just not as satisfying when you can't hear Sookie and Bill whispering erotic sweet nothings to each other while they fuck.
I was explaining this to my co-worker (who is also a friend) and an older Asian woman from the produce department who I have avoided conversation with for 6 years because I am prejudice. Not because she's Asian, but because she works in Produce. No one in Produce should be trusted. They all carry around small knives for cutting things, like leaves and potentially me. Besides that, she used to glare at me for no reason. Today I found out, she thinks my HBO-schpeel is hilarious. She even touched my arm and said I was funny. After laughing for a while more and inflating my head to an explosive size (I get a scumptious feeling when people tell me I'm funny. It's like when you know that Volvo made a S70 and a autophile argues that they only made a S40, s60 and s80, and right when you're about to give up, an S70 drives by and you have you remain modest, but you just want to jump up and down like a child screaming "I'm RIGHT and you're WRONG"), she hid her unfinished coffee in a top cupboard in the break room and walks out. She kept the leaf-knife hidden.
So, I work in the bakery section of the said Grocery Store. I make Montreal Style bagels, which is more of a process than you might thing. I would explain it, but I did that once to a friend and it took at least 12 floats around her pool and made for a very uncomfortable silence afterwards because halfway through the story I realized she didn't care, but then I was halfway through the bagel-making process and just couldn't leave them unfinished! Basically you boil them and put them into an oven and flip them alot and move them into complex lines and arrangments. If it was less structured I'm sure my creative side would take over and I'd try to write my name in bagels, but all the J's would get burned becuase they'd be closest to the gas fire that bakes them. However, I'm stuck putting them into lines and rows. Today, the bagels were very angry with me and kept on sneaking around and doing bad things behind my back. They would over boil themselves in the kettle or over brown while I was getting different bagels out of a different oven, and then they'd refuse to come out of the oven. It's a sad sad day when you give personalities to inanimate objects, but I do have a Degree and am working at a grocery store, so I think I'm entitled to a bit of insanity.
I hope the bagels co-operate tomorrow and bake up beautifully. I hate having to take people down off their nicities when they tell me my bagels look nice, but they're actually ugly. I think it must be like knowing you have an ugly child and having to correct people when they say how cute they are: "Jess, your bagels are looking good today" "No, they're not. They're flat and ugly. But thanks for trying..." and then they look at you like you're crazy, and you end up feeling bad even though you're the one failing. The best people are the ones that snap up and say "Yea, the sesame do look pretty shitty."
Confusing.
~Jess~
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