My Father is Insane.

On Thursdays, I work for my dad. My dad is a mushroom broker/gas station owner/vending machine guy/800 other things. If you've met my dad you know he is somewhat crazy, but if you haven't I hope this helps you get an idea about him.

The following is an account of my day. The minutes are kind of off because I was using different clocks and they all said different things, but who really gives a fuck?

9:40-I start my day by buying leases and monthly rental agreements at the office supply store.
10:00-Lectured about how I should know more about things like lead paint. I am given a CD about lead paint to watch on my own time to educate myself.
10:20-I go to the post office.
10:24-Told never to bring home the crap ads from the post office ever again.
10:35-My dad makes me lie to an old man and say he is not in the office.
10:36-Tell Dad I am going to hell for him and should get paid more.
10:37-Told by Dad that I'll probably end up in hell for something else first. No raise.
10:40-I get to put 9 bazillion one dollar bills from the soda machines in order so they are all facing the same way.
10:59-Touch a one dollar bill covered in human feces.
11:04-Take a soda order
11:05-Yelled at for being too slow
11:09-I try to take my first order for mushrooms. I get told to wait 2 minutes.
11:11-Still no call about the order.
11:13-Call to pester the man for my mushroom order. He is very alarmed to know that I am even less patient than my dad.
11:15-Get called "Sweetheart" by a man named Bubba. I giggle.
11:23-Get yelled at for trying to take a break to wash the shit off my hand.
11:30-Go to bank
11:40-Apologize to banker who has to count the 9 bazillion ones.
11:50-The gas light goes on in my car and I begin to hyperventilate.
11:50-Gas light goes off. Try to breathe normally.
12:02-Go to post office to cover up the mistake I made the first time I went to the post office.
12:05-Back at the office.
12:07-Introduced to same guy for 9th time.
12:12-The Canada Dry guy comes.
12:40-I fall asleep in my chair with my mouth open.
12:45-Motion sensor buzzes and wakes me up.
1:00-Load soda order onto a pallet.
1:16-Count the soda money from today.
1:19-Yelled at for being too slow.
1:20-Yelled at for my entire generation being too slow. (Thanks everyone)
1:30-Get to add up mushroom sheets on fancy calculator.
1:45-My dad calls his accountant to find out if it's illegal to be paid as little as I am.
1:46-Yelled at for being unemployed and working for peanuts.
1:47-My dad tries to get me to call the intern place so he can "break their balls"
1:51-My dad calls me a secretary. I tell him I'm a receptionist. We settle on receptionist bitch.
2:00-Get an actual compliment!! Am told I have gotten very good at monitoring the security cameras.
2:03-Some guy calls to buy my Jetta. (for sale in front of the gas station) He doesn't speak English. He keeps yelling "Yetta" in my ear. I pull together some Spanish and ask him for his number. He hangs up on me.
2:17-Lecture about how I shouldn't use peoples names when delivering messages. I get confused.
2:30-Try to fix motion sensor. I fail.
2:31-Dad fixes sensor in 3 seconds.
2:35-Yelled at for being too slow.
2:36-Told I wasn't as slow as usual.
2:40-I arrange more ones.
2:41-My dad makes me race against one of his gas attendants with the ones. I win!
2:48-The electricity goes on and off.
2:49-My dad says fuck a lot.
2:50-I sit outside and watch for cars who want propane.
2:56-I get sent home
2:57-Dad calls and tells me that I need to not be so slow when I work.

Oh, Rick Springfield.

Dear Rick Springfield,
Thank you for giving the world Jessie's girl.
Love,
Joanne

PS. You are saying the point is probably moot, right? You get bonus points for that.

I feel so...

I don't think I can write on this thing on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. All I want to do is write some emo whiny crap about how much I hate this shitty internship and how horrible a mood I am. Actually, maybe I can't write in this any day because I'm usually somewhat depressed and cranky. I whine a lot, but we all know that and have accepted and still love me dearly. Or just put up with me because I sing so well...

I seriously don't think I am ever going to get a job. Plus after this experience I really have no desire to try so fucking hard anymore. Can someone please get successful and need a personal assistant and/or secretary? I'd be really good at it, I have all the super Mom skills without being a Mom. I'm organized, I remember things very well, and if you are a boy, I will wear a v-neck shirt everyday.

2005 is the worst year ever.

Oy.

The priest that was in charge of my elementary school and church, St. Patrick's, until 1991 or 1993 or some year with a 199 in it, is among the priests charged with sexual abuse. There are lots of details in the Inquirer about the priests and charges from the grand jury's report. He allegedly molested two girls who worked in the parish rectory.

It's really weird. I don't remember too much about him except that one time he burped into the microphone a church while giving his homily. He had some health problems. The students really liked him. He also baptised my mom and my sister.

In other news that totally isn't related to what I just wrote, but this is my blog and I can do what I want and anyone who has a problem can just deal with it...I was really nice to a complete stranger the other day just in case I ever got stranded on an island with her. Thanks television for making me a better person! [Insert thumbs up here]

8 More Fake Work Days to Go.

Today I made 32 phone calls in an hour. I am NOT interning in telemarketing though.

I think I'm just going to become the manager of Wendy's or McDonald's or something.

I can't believe it either.

So, uh...I danced on top of a bar.

I did it for a free shot and a biker tried to give me a dollar and then the DJ called me a quitter for jumping off the bar after I got my free shot.

I also tried to invent my own country line dance. It involved a lot of stomping and clapping and twirling and it was really bad.

I really can't dance. I should work on that.

PS. New Harry Potter trailer. And iPod.

My poor boys.

Aww, it's not THAT bad. It's a pop song written by a 10, 13 and 16 year old! Give them some credit.

It is one of my least favorite songs they wrote though.