While I’m on the toilet subject…

This is regarding this link that Anthony recently Googled. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/4326340/

Leave it to the Brits to think of things like glass toilet stalls, dung-spitting, and what not. (Yes, dung-spitting is a real sport involving antelope poop.) But check out this story. How uncomfy is this situation to be doing your business in? You pretty much feel like you’re sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. Not only that, but more than half the people walking on the street don’t look where they’re going. I know I’d walk right into it. So now imagine sitting on the can with several people walking right into the walls around you. Whoever is alert enough to notice the big mirror box is probably curious enough to see if it’s really true you can’t see inside at all. So you’re sitting there and over the course of one dump, 5 or so people run into the walls, while 4 more have their noses pressed against the glass trying to get a glimpse of what’s inside.

No, thanks. I’ll take a smelly stall in Grand Central Station anytime.

I’m not lovin’ it.

This is a bit late, but I finally got the card reader driver loaded so I could load the picture.

So, last week, against my better judgment, I ate at McDonald’s. Actually, it’s was Elenora’s choice.

(Sidenote here: Elenora is deaf-blind. Deaf-blind means you touch everything. You touch EVERYTHING. If you remotely know me, you can probably guess how much I like this :/ )

Back to the story. She wants nothing to do with Boston Market. Because it’s dirty? No, no. Because they ran out of a certain dish an hour before they closed last time she was there. For that they are the devil, and for that we have to subject ourselves to the pit that is McDonald’s.

So I order my fries (only small thank god). I finish my fries. Lunch is over and Becky, who has the endurance of Job, takes Elenora to the bathroom where she can touch everything in sight and then touch her. I did it once. Any guesses why that was my only time? The best thing is that you have to touch her in order to tell her not to touch you.

Anyway, as Becky is waiting for her, she glances into the waste receptical. What does she see but an opened enema box!!!


  1. That SOMEONE administered their, or lord help us, someone else’s enema in a Mickey D’s bathroom. A MICKEY D’S BATHROOM!!!! Of course, I assume the worst. It was probably an employee who forgot to wash their hands and I just finished eating. (Excuse me while I hurl at the thought.)
  2. That Person X carries around enemas incase of emergencies.
    Now, I’ve heard of people carrying around Tums, asprin, pads, what have you incase of emergencies. But ENEMAS? Who here carries enemas with them? And a three-pack at that?!?! Any hands? I didn’t think so. From what I gather, they aren’t exactly purse-sized. Person X carries around a three-pack of enemas. Person X has issues.
  3. Another distinct possiblility is, notice the Walgreen’s box. (Nothing but the best for her butt.) Perhaps she took a quick run to Walgreen’s around the corner, found the nearest McD’s and emptied all three.

Whatever the scenario, they’re all equally disgusting.

For all my homies who are taking notes, this is the McDonald’s on Broadway in Malden.

Oh… and yes, I had to go back in again with my digital and record it, hoping people didn’t think I was crazy.

Got interviews? (_|_)!!!

OK so I’ve been on job interviews for the past month. Some were absurd; others were productive. Well, productive in comparison to the absurd ones. I still don’t have a job.

In answer to everyone’s question if I got the job from two weeks ago, the answer is no. Otherwise, the subject would be something like, “EEEEE,” and not involve one of these (|). So after much questioning at this job interview, I knew nothing would get me anywhere since, first of all, I was the first interview at 8:30am over the course of three days of interviews. I’m lucky if they remember my name.

So it went OK. Nothing spectacular. I got the “We’re sorry,” letter in the mail yesterday stating that the reason they’re not hiring me is because they’re looking for someone who can match their position best. They will call me when they have something more web related. Now I don’t think I could’ve emphasized more during the interview that I’m equally comfortable with both print and web design. This job I could’ve handled after one year of college. All it was was typesetting on Quark; barely any design. Although I said over and over that I can do print design, apparently they heard that as, “I can only do web design.” I wrote them a letter saying if they have any freelance available in the future to call me because “I CAN DO PRINT DESIGN.” I didn’t type it in caps, but I would’ve liked to. Caps, bold, and italic to make sure they could see it. Bozos. So the search continues.

Believe it or not, that’s not the interview that gets rated (|).

TODAY, I went on an interview. The (|) interview. I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden I’m getting called for a bunch of interviews. Early last month when I was at the end of my rope, I applied to several retail stores to fill in the time until I get a real job. So one of these decides to call me Tuesday for an interview at 1:30 today (Thursday). Yesterday, I get 3 other requests for interviews at real jobs. As you can guess, I see no need for going to the non-job since jobs are starting to call me. But I committed to it, so I go. This involves me getting up at 5:30am cause my mom’s takes the car to work and if I don’t leave with her, I’m stuck at home all day.

I go out in service this morning and stop at 12:30 to go to this interview with will hereby be known as “(|)” because I don’t want to dignify it by even calling it an interview. I go to the mall and to the store to meet the manager who is (|)ing me. I wait for a bit for her and she comes out and introduces herself. We go out to a mall bench to do the (|). Apparently, there are no back rooms in the store? So we’re out on the bench next to what looked like a straggly bearded guy from the street who is taking a load off. I feel so professional. So she starts questioning me. “Have you ever worked in retail?” “What is your definition of a successful sales person?” I felt like saying, “One who has decided to go to college to escape the horrors of remaining a sales person,” but I didn’t say that. I was nice. Three of four more questions pass when she says, “OK, that’s about it.” No lie, this whole thing took all of 5 minutes tops.

Now my question is, WHY did this have to be scheduled as an appointment? Did you really have to prepare for this? She scheduled it two days in advance in the middle of the day. If I had known this was the extent of the (|), I sooo wouldn’t have shown up. I could’ve stayed out in the morning with the group or better yet, stayed home and SLEPT. Anything would’ve been more productive than going on this (|).

So goes another day in my unemployed life. I have another interview tomorrow. I’ll share more then.

Laughing at the expense of a car accident victim

Today, I was out with AJ and Howard and we were driving down Longwood where all the hospitals are and AJ just randomly said, “This would be the best place to get hit by a car.” HAHA funny.

So the day goes on and we go out to eat (Never eat at Jacob Wirth) and on our way back to the T by New England Medical, we see this guy in the middle of the road who just recently got hit by a taxi. Two people are standing by him, comforting him. A couple is standing on the sidewalk with horrified looks, crying on each others shoulders. The guy is sitting there in a pool of blood big enough to cause a vehicle to hydroplane. You can’t see his face cause blood is pouring from his head.

Initially, I’m freaked out by the sight. Then I think of what AJ previously said about infront of a hospital being the most convenient place to get hit. I start giggling. I tell AJ. She starts laughing. She says, “He’s pretty lucky.” We’re both laughing and looking like the most sadistic people on the face of the Earth.

But if people only knew why we were laughing, they’d be laughing, too.

I need to move

Tonight I get home and say to my mom “I’m not going out tomorrow.” In other words, don’t wake me up. She replies, “So you’re staying in?” I pretend not to hear. She repeats. I say, “I said, ‘I’m not going out.'” She repeats, “So does that mean you’re staying in?”

Forget the huge disagreements. Things like this are making me crave moving even more.