Topher

 Since the last time I posted:

• I got into a minor car accident.  My first.
• I got a speeding ticket.  Also my first.  Kind of.  I got one going 36.5 mph in Pennsylvania, but Cheltenham Police can suck my cock.
• I told Beth off, but in a way that showed more respect and tact than she deserved.  (E-mail is posted further down, under the cut).  She didn't respond.  I'm kind of relieved.  Friendship over, no hard feelings.  
• I got glasses!
• My father and I bought a MacBook.  He gets to check his mail regularly, and I get to bring a computer to work to get some shit done.
• I have kicked some academic ass.  I'm expecting all As and a B.  And that B is a hard-earned B.  I handed in a beautiful research paper that truly kicked ass and was awesome in every way possible.  And I got a B+ on it.  :(  Sad Chris was sad.
• I posted this, which was unhealthy but still fun.

I'm awake now to work on papers.  I have six due Thursday.  That's not really me procrastinating, either.  Five of them were assigned today.  

( Facebook message to Beth )

 Chris

Please, God, let it be cancer. 

Sometimes I forget that I'm a Mac user, and that allows me to do some things I always wanted to but never could on a PC.  I remembered the other day and tried out iMovie.  The only movies I had on my computer were of Beth singing in my car, so I compiled some of the funnier moments and put them together.  Once I got the hang of it, I added a sequence where, instead of talking to the camera, I wrote what I wanted to say on index cards.  This took about twenty minutes, and I kept fucking up the order of the cards, knocking things over, and being all sorts of spazzy.  In addition to the movie, I included a blooper reel.  It wasn't long before I actually started to like what I did, even though -- maybe because -- it was ridiculously amateurish.  So I played with iDVD and burned a copy.  The DVD includes the footage of Beth, bloopers, and a slideshow set to "The Last Song" by All-American Rejects.  

Soon, I kind of realized why I was so determined to make this DVD and give it to Beth.  Yes, part of it was "LOOKIT WHAT I CAN DO ON MY MAC," but also part of it was goodbye.  I've known her since I was 14.  I'm 22 now.  I've outgrown her, and, withholding any and all bitterness, I think I need to acknowledge that, let her know, and move on.  So today, on my way to work, I dropped off the DVD in her mailbox.  Later on, I get this reply on my Facebook wall:

1. I ABSOLUTELY loved the CD.
2. You didn't have to go through all the trouble. A simple apology from the other night would have sufficed, lol.
3. (Did I mentiong that ) I. LOVED. THE. CD. !!!???
4. I do miss you.
5. Bloopers were ♥ ♥

♥ porkchop

 

First of all, I didn't make her a fuckin' mix tape.  It was a DVD.  Second of all, apology?  Last time we hung out, we were fine until I jumped out and scared her, and, seriously, it wasn't that big of a deal.  But she yelped and carried on like a fucking two-year old.  She didn't speak to me for the rest of the night.  She also didn't speak to Ryan,  the other friend we were with.  Ryan and I just kept texting each other, going, "Um, this is awkward.  What the fuck is up her ass?"  So, no, I will not be apologizing any time soon.    

*sigh*  I'm good now.  Really.  I felt obligated to make a proper, mildly dramatic exit speech as I end Beth's and my friendship once and for all, but, clearly, Beth has shown me once again that any effort I make is too much.  

All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 
All day at work with nothing to do makes Christopher a dull boy. 

Does anyone have a Blackberry? Mine isn't displaying my LJ friends list. I tried changing the viewing options, but I got nothin'.

At the Sizzler: an overweight, middle-aged guy in a Spiderman costume.

Spotted in the car next to me: a cardboard box containing balloon animals of various colors. I wanna party with THAT guy.

I'm 22.  And I think it's about time.

Time I update this on a more frequent basis.
Time I take my writing seriously.
Time I stop hanging out with immature cunts.
Time I actively try to turn the many acquaintances I've met in Post into real friends.
Time I stopped talking about driving up to NY to see my sister, and driving down to PA to see Tina, and actually fucking DRIVE THERE.
Time I got my act together and kept it that way.

I have Beth to thank for this.  She's an uneducated, pretentious bitch, and you know what?  I think I finally realized that I'm better than her, and I always have been, and I always will be.  And I am officially done with her.

She's 22, and she talks about Kevin Jonas as if they're best friends.  Just because you went to a concert BY YOURSELF and were the only one of legal age who did not go just to bring their 12-year-old daughter doesn't mean you're friends.  It means you're a fucking creeper, and you're a selfish, spoiled, self-righteous bitch who will live at home with mommy and daddy until the day you die because you feel safe there because NO ONE OUTSIDE OF YOUR FAMILY LIKES YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE A CHILDISH CUNT.

Well, maybe not a childish cunt.  That's just PedoBear material. 

But seriously.  At least my parents had the decency of being abusive so I'm motivated to find my own place.

And, for the record, my list of exes include an unwed teen mother and a chick with an eating disorder.
Hers include a guy who was arrested for soliciting sex from young girls; a gay furry; and an illegal immigrant. 

I'm just ... not going to surround myself with people who are beneath me.  And it's not even just that.  She's so judgmental.  It's funny.  SHE is judgmental.  She, who drives no more than five mph under the speed limit, who never drinks unless it's with her dad, who is a constant buzzkill, who carried on like a fucking toddler tonight, who is so socially awkward that we laugh and say she's regrown her hymen.  SHE.  Is judging me.

Oh, and even though she's working and I haven't in two months, I paid for both the movie and dinner tonight.  But she totally has a right to be upset.  Mm-hmm, yup.  

God, life really is funny sometimes.

- Chris

EDIT: Also she who is 22 going on 92.  
"She's so old she knits [and reads magazines about cats] while having sex."  Maybe she could put that on her résumé.

My real eyes realized real lies.
Six words never meant so much.
I tried, tried, tried again, Mom!
Three months, and I'm still sober.

-- B

I used to dream that my parents were dead in the front seat of our car, and it was up to my sister and me to control the car.  Sometimes we had to stop the car before it rolled backwards out of our driveway, across a street, and into someone's yard; other times, we were on a big highway and had to find our way home.  No matter what the challenge, we were always sitting in the same place: my mother in the driver's seat with my sister behind her, and my father in the passenger's seat with me behind him. 

My brother was never in any of the dreams. 

It's possible he was in the trunk.

-- B

I feel all shiny and new, and I don't know why.  Lately, I just feel...different.  Maybe it's been a gradual process and I've only now caught on, but I certainly feel like I'm calmer, more mature, more confident, and, God help me, happier. 

First, work.  I think that's where I first noticed it.  It started when Bill told me he wanted to make me supervisor.  I became more cool, calm, and collected.  Even though, almost a month later, I'm not that closer to being PLS (photo lab supervisor), the effects remain.  Customers have noticed it.  I swear to God, not a day goes by that customers don't tell me how pleasant, happy, or helpful I am.  I'm the resident smiling face behind the counter.  And, because of that, I'm ahead in the upselling contest, in which we have to encourage customers to buy something -- thus the term upsell.  I'm also doing really well with asking for donations for Easter Seals, which CVS supports every August-September.

Second, girls.  I let two potential relationships slip by in the past few months, but I think it was for the best.  RIght now, I can't see myself dating anyone.  It's seriously weird to think about.  When Gina and I were...whatever we were, it felt like she was an extension of myself, and I of her.  And I thought -- maybe still do? -- that's what a relationship is supposed to be.  And I can't imagine that now.  Maybe I'll be single for the rest of my life.  As much as I want a wife and kids and dogs and cats and a white-picket dream, I think I'm also ok with growing up, adopting a kid, and letting my friends be my family.  That's how they are now. 

Third, Gina.  You'd think this would go in the above category, but no.  I had a dream last night that Gina and I were best friends again, and it felt great.  And we were even flirting with the idea of once again crossing that line into 'something more' territory and, since it was in dreamland, that, too, felt great.  But then I woke up and, for the first time ever, I felt what everyone else has been telling me all along -- it's her loss.  She was the first girl I fell in love with, and I fell hard.  But we blew it.  I blew it when I threw away everything in my life so that I could live hers, and she blew it when she gave up on me when things got hard.  I don't see myself as trying to make the best of my life post-Gina, as if us breaking up was the equivalent of Hurricane Katrina, and now I'm just rebuilding.  For the first time, I realize that my post-Gina life is better.  I am better without her.

I read a book tonight.  :) I like how silly that sentence sounds.  I'm sure it's not a big deal to you guys 'cause you're avid readers, but I'm not.  I'm the English major who thinks film and television make for better and more effective storytelling than literature.  Reading is something I do when I have nothing else to do.  It's fun, yes, but give me a television and Internet, and those pages become obsolete.  But I picked up a book today and read it straight through.  Cover to cover, I read a book in one day.  I'd never done that before.  If you're curious, the book was a typical Chris book: The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch.  Think Tuesdays With Morrie, if Morrie was a computer geek telling you his story through a speech.  I'm sure you've heard of Paush; he died last week.  He has three fucking kids, man, one of whom hasn't even turned 2. 

When I think about Summer '06, I think about how bitter and angry I was at Scott.
When I think about Summer '07, I think about how bitter and angry I was at myself.
Years from now,
when I think about Summer '08, maybe I'll think of it as the summer I finally became who I wanted to be. : ) GOT MY SHIT TOGETHER. 

Ok, I'm cheesy.  Get over it.

-- B

PS:
I don't know quite yet what I want to do with this LiveJournal, but I'm sure it involves posting random YouTube videos.  So, uh, here's what I've been listening to lately:

"Last Thing on My Mind" by Leann Rimes and Ronan Keating

"Heartbreaker" by P!nk

"Back to the Middle" by India.Arie


I like boymusic, too.  I just happen to be going through a strong woman phase at the moment : )

1) Go to Photobucket (don't sign in)
2) Type your answer to (each) question in the "search" box
3) Copy the html of the picture (your answer) then paste, for the answer

The Questions:
What is your relationship status?
What is your favourite colour?
Who is your celebrity crush?
What are you currently listening to?
What is your favourite movie?
Your favourite Disney Princess?
Dream vacation?
What do you wanna be when you grow up?
What do you love most?
One word that describes you.
Where were you born?
What is your obsession?
What is your last name?

I went to the nearby pizza place this afternoon to pick up a slice for my manager, and I ran into an old manager of mine, Paula. 

And one tidbit of information you'll need:  Maureen (aka Mo) used to be the photo supervisor.  She worked there for about two years, I want to say?  Anyway, Mo was known for being a former cokehead with all false teeth, and she'd often call her parole officer while ringing up customers.  This woman is made of crazy.   Now, I present to you the following scene:

What I said:
Chris:  Paula!  Hey, sweetie!  How've you been?
Paula: Good, good!  How are you?  You're in a lab coat.  Are you in --
Chris: I'm in photo now!  And they're thinking of making me photo supervisor.  I'm a Mo!
Chris, Paula: *laugh*
Everyone in Buona Sera: *looks at me*

What everyone in Buona Sera heard:
Chris: ...
Paula: ...
Chris: HEY, EVERYBODY.  I'M A 'MO!
Everyone in Buona Sera: *looks at me*  I KNEW IT.

The end.

-- B

Today is August 1.  By September 1, I will

• have started the next -- and hopefully last -- chapter of my college career.
• have gotten a promotion!  Training will hopefully begin this month.
• own a new computer, with the help of a raise and new budget.
• be more back on my feet than ever, instead of just talking about it.
• have solid plans about what to do post-college, post-CVS
• go to a doctor if my foot isn't healed!!
• have a new idea for a screenplay.

so
help
me
God.

These monthly goal things are pretty cheesy.
But I'm going to go with them for a bit and see if it works.

-- B

 Today was a really, truly, magnificently awesome day at work.

First of all, we got tons of photo in.  We usually get four or five rolls per day.  When I left at 5:30, we had approximately 15 film orders and four digital orders.  SCORE. 

Second of all, I had the best customers.  We were pretty busy, and there were many times when I was ringing up customers, developing film, cutting negatives, helping people on the digital In-Seconds machine, helping people on the digital One-Hour machine, and helping people on the Kodak Picture Maker all at the same time.  They saw that I was the only one there, and, instead of complaining, most of them took the time to tell me how nice and helpful I was.  And then...THE BEST CUSTOMER EVER:

When Nancy, the BEST CUSTOMER EVER, came to the store, there were two lines -- I was taking one, and Sammy, a shift manager, was taking the other.  As I was helping someone else, I saw her, so we smiled, said hello, and then I told her that Sammy would ring her up sooner than I would (at the time, I was taking in nine rolls of film).  "But I like you!" Nancy says.  I told her I like her too :)  She ended up waiting so that I would be the one to ring her up.  Then -- ok, and this is where, if anyone else did this, s/he would be a total douchebag.  But Nancy is amazing, so I didn't mind.  In fact, I kind of loved it:

She has a cart FULL of shit.  She takes out plastic plates, plastic bowls, utensils, and a utensil caddy.  She has four of everything: two of everything in blue, two of everything in green.  "Which goes better as a set?"  She took the ones I suggested; I put the others in throwbacks, which means that whoever is on the closing shift has to put it back.  Then she had two boxes of cookies.  "Which do you think tastes better?"  She takes the one I say, and the other goes in throwbacks.  She did the same thing for toys and I think something else.  Is it annoying?  A little, but customers are going to do what customers are going to do.  Plus, I wasn't the one who had to put them all back, so whatever.  All the while, though, she was telling me how nice I am, how I'm the only nice one in the store, how she doesn't buy anything if I'm not there, and how her friends were just talking about how I'm so wonderful and friendly.  Really?  Of all possible topics of conversation, you and your gal pals pick your local CVS photo tech?  Well, ok then :)  She asked whom she can contact to compliment me (and to complain about two rude managers), and so I told her.  I felt bad giving her the manager names, but what was I going to do?  Say no?  She wrote down my name, Bill's (my boss) name, and Sammy's name, which she CIRCLED, STARRED, AND UNDERLINED, haha.   All customers hate Sammy.  Off the top of my head, I can think of five people who told me he's just a jerk to them.  To be fair, Sammy's a manager, and he's stressed out 24/7, and he has better things to be doing than ring up $50 of clearance items for you.  But I totally understand where the customers are coming from: if you're going to work in retail, play nice with customers.

OH!  And we just hired this cute, semi-awkward-but-in-an-endearing-way girl.  My favorite.  I was there when she first applied, then when she came in for an interview, and then when she came in -- twice -- to check on her application.  We're total BFF now.  Her name's Courtney Always (she spells it Alwais, but it's pronounced like always, and that's funnier, so I'm spelling it like that).  HOW CUTE IS THAT?  I can't wait to have to page her.  "Courtney Always has a call on line 1."  To be honest, I'm a little afraid, though.  We're really friendly now, but what if she starts work, and she sees what a tight-ass I am in photo, and then she doesn't like me anymore?  lol  I can't wait to help train her!  I'll come in on my day off, and I'll show her the ropes! :D

Oh, God.  It's really sick how much I love my job. 

*ahem*

Anyway, finally, something not work related:

The other day, thanks to 24 hours of nothing but wind and rain, rain, rain, my basement flooded.  It was the worst and dirtiest it's ever been.  And the WetVac is busted.  I think it's time to move back upstairs.  The apartment idea was cool, and I proved to myself (not that I had doubts) that I can be alone and support myself, but it's just not working out.  My bedroom is smalll, yes, but it doesn't flood.  And it has natural sunlight, which is, psychologically, a lot healthier for me.  I won't have a computer there, but so what?  I'll still use the basement one.  If I ever get this fucking promotion, the first thing I'll do is buy a computer.  Probably not a Mac, so I can save some money.  If I don't get it before school starts, I might just buy one anyway.  I don't know.  Anyone looking to sell a computer in decent conditiion?  Anyone have word on how good/bad Vista is? 

-- B

I love my job.

Are you ready for the best story ever?  Ok.  Backstory first: next to the CVS shopping center, there's a Spanish psychic and her family.  This group consists of seven people, all or most of whom live in that little house.  Of the 7, here's the relationships we know:

• Mom of Psychic.  In her late 50s, very frail.  Comes in once a day to buy her Winstons and toilet paper.  She always pushes a cart around while holding a tissue and blowing her nose.  She pushes the cart to the checkout, buys her shit, and leaves the cart at the register.  With her used tissues in it.
• Psychic.  In her 30s, fat, and cross-eyed.  Seldom wears bras.  Has a speech impediment.  Thinks we all love her.  We really, really don't.
• Daughter of Psychic.  In her early teenage years.  When I first started at CVS, she was much younger and a terror to be around.  Now, she's calmed down.
• Son of Psychic.  For the life of me, I can't figure out this kid's age.  Let's say he's 7.  His name is Kevin, and he very well might be autistic (which is why, later on, I show sympathy towards him).  He always throws tantrums, opens toys without his mom knowing much less paying, and makes a mess out of every aisle he's in. 
  

This story's about Kevin.

It's about 3:30pm, and I was supposed to leave at 3.  The plan is to leave and then come back to work a few hours later because my photo supervisor called in sick.  I'm just wrapping up a few things -- making sure the two photo customers at the store (Psychic is one of them) leave happy.  Suddenly, I hear a kid screaming in the back aisles.  I look at the other girl working, Jackie, and we both go, "Who the fuck is that?"  Customers complain as the screaming continues.  I go look down the aisle to confirm my suspicions.  Sure enough, it's Kevin.  He starts throwing things now.  I tell Jackie, and we both agree that, we don't know or care why he's crying, but I'm about to give him another reason to cry.  Something along the lines of a curb stomp ought to do the trick.  Just as I'm about to go, the crying stops.

...and then continues five minutes later.  Kevin is now on the other side of the store, but still in the back.  He's alone, crying, screaming, and about to open/break a game of Checkers.  Instantly, I know what happened.  He took it off the shelf, his mom said no, and this, combined with whatever caused his earlier tantrum, caused an ubertantrum.  And now he's furious, sitting alone, and acting like a bitch.

I walk over and kneel beside him.  "What's going on, Kevin?  What happened?"  He screams even louder and even faster.  I can't understand him -- he has speech problems to begin with.  I hear some words: "want water....mom left...movie...me...now...NOOOO."  I don't know what else to do, so I say, "You want a drink?  Here, why don't you let me buy you a drink, ok?  But you have to promise to be quiet."  He screams again and this time goes to hit me with the Checkers box.  I grab the box and say firmly, "You don't want to do that.  You want to behave and let me buy you a drink so you'll be quiet."  I try to get him on his feet, but he kicks me.  Yeah.  Ok.  We'll do it the hard way.  I pick him up, like I've done so many times before when he was younger -- I used to have to hold him with me at the register so he wouldn't break stuff.  His mom can't control him, but sitting on the register and watching me ring was like a privilege, I guess, so he behaved then.  Anyway, he starts grabbing my hair!  Bitch.  I continue carrying him, and he starts CLAWING AT MY EAR.  Ok, really now?  Time for a rant.

Listen, cunt.  I don't give a shit what disorder your punk kid has, and I'm even more clueless as to what kind of drunken inbred retard you had to fuck to create this little shit being, but I'll tell you right now: either you control YOUR kid, or I'll kill him.  I'm off the clock and at work to help out, not to get beat up because you couldn't keep your legs closed. 

Aaaand I'm back.  So I take Kevin to the coolers, set him down, and ask him what drinks he wants.  By this time, his oh-so-useful mother and sister are there, and they offer to buy him whatever he wants.  Because that solves the problem -- spoiling him.  I was buying him a drink because I don't care if he's spoiled, as long as he shut the fuck up and doesn't destroy the store.  But, really, your kid cries and throws things, and you reward that with a chilled beverage?  No.  For effective rewards, see above, re: curb stomping.

Once the mother had Kevin, the pharmacist called me over to say I'm going to Heaven for not dropkicking the little fucker.  While I was explaining the story to the pharmacist, she let me know that my ear was now bleeding.  That little shit scratched me so hard that I bled. It's still bleeding a little, actually, over an hour later.  It's just because of where it is on my ear. 

This is what I get.  I saw a child who likely has autism, and I tried to help.  Normal people would have ignored it or told the woman to take her kid outside.  Chris people love children and try to make them smile...or at least calm...or at the very least not kicking my penis. 

I love my job.

-- B

Earlier, I briefly mentioned that I live in my basement.  It started out as an attempt to get more room to play my Wii ("But, Mom, if it's my room, should I be able to fit in it?").  Then I looked around and saw what was actually happening.  I was one step closer to moving out.  The basement comes complete with a full-size refrigerator and freezer; a full bathroom; a computer; couches, dressers, a bookshelf, a desk, and a credenza; access to three phone lines; my television and DVD/VHS collection.

It's like my own little apartment.  My mother hates me being down here because it means I'm ALWAYS down here.  Why would I ever leave?  Like I said, it's a step towards moving out.  All the food down here is mine.  Granted, I'm 21, so most of it is water, cereal, and ice cream, but still.  I paid for it myself.  There's another benefit of living down here, and that's because it's far less convenient for my father to come in (my old bedroom was right across the hall from his).  That's for a later post, though.

Anyway, the reason I'm updating now is that I didn't think of one thing before moving down here.  Whenever it rains or snows really badly, some of the rain will -- I have no idea how, but -- come up through the tile floors.  The first time it happened, my bed and floor were wet, and I was CONVINCED for a few hours that I had pissed myself.  (The bed was wet because I'd left the window open right by me).  It's a fun surprise to hop out of bed and step into a puddle of a cold, mysterious liquid. 

I already kill massive spiders on a daily basis.  I don't think I can handle having to kill sea creatures, too.  :-\

It's ok, though.  I have a WetVac, and I'm not afraid to use it.

-- B

From what I've read, everyone else has been interpreting "your lifetime" as "your life."  Is that how you guys saw it?  Either way, here's mine...

1.  My screenplay.  I wrote it during my first year at Arcadia.  I feel like all of my creativity was just sucked out of me during those years, but that script, that heavy-handed, melodramatic, poorly written script was my escape from everything going on.  It saved me from...certain people from whom I needed saving. 
2.  My DVD collection.  I'm aware it's more than one item, but eat me.  It defines me more than any word could ever hope to.  Where else do you find an action-packed powerhouse of sexy known as Mr. & Mrs. Smith on the same shelf as the girly innocence of Now and Then?  : )
3. My LG Voyager.  I have some text conversations saved on there, and they mean the world to me.  From quoting Dane Cook to drawn-out conversations about Gina to my personal favorite ("Im your family. I love you") I look at them pretty much every day to keep me going.

-- B

Today is going to be one of those days that I rate not on how productive I am, or how many times I laugh, but rather on the size and number of phlegm clumps I can cough up.  I don't want to jinx it, but it's just about 8am, and, uh, it's lookin' pretty good.  :)

My computer situation's pretty messy, but, to simplify it a bit, my Mac's been busted for a few months, and I'm using the computer in the basement -- which I just recently claimed as my new bedroom -- until I buy a new one.  All my music is gone, so I've been YouTubeing my favorite songs.  I came across this cover, and I've fallen completely in love with the girl singing.  Not only am I a fool for a chick who can play guitar, but there's something either about her teeth or her lips.  It's cute.  Anyway, here it is, along with the original.