Hello, puppets! Summer is nearly upon us as far as the calendar goes, but the weather has decided get the sun shining and burning ahead of schedule. Not that it's a huge surprise here in LA! this entry is NOT going to sound like the usual me, but there's the dark, creepy me and then the light, pretty me. Get ready for some pretty talk!

My summer plans are falling into place now that I have a month left of classes. I'm going back to Montana for a month! I'll probably work part time, but I'm really excited because I have tons of new ideas for art that involve Montana. I find it strange how when I was there I practically hit a wall, but now the ideas are flowing...I can't wait! And in August I will be off to visit my dear friend Zee again. Oh yes, there is much to look forward to...except my birthday. I don't want to be 18! Adulthood doesn't sound exciting at all.

I've been slipping a lot into Americana recently. You know my obsession with past eras in history, and right now I'm really enjoying the 40s. As much as I adore my European roots, sometimes it's nice to think about 4th of July and cherry pie. Last summer was pretty American! This one will probably be, too. Anyways, 40s clothes were lovely, so flattering and appealing. The silhouettes are to die for!! I've been perusing etsy and other clothes sites and building dream 40s wardrobes in my head. I need clothing!!

One of the dearest clothing pieces to me is the simple summer dress. I can't get enough of them. I just want to put on something knee-length and prairie-licious and walk through the city. If there's one thing I like in clothing it's the timeless quality of it and summer dresses are like that. It's just nice to be pretty sometimes!! Like this dress. Doesn't it make you want to pick blueberries, drink iced tea, and run through tall grass? Sometimes I just want to live in the movie Lolita, except for the Jeremy Irons killing my mom part. And even if this dress isn't summery, it's SO PRETTY that I want to wear it to every public garden in the county. Pity I'm not made of money!!

Anyways, before I get carried away, I just want to let you know that I might not have much new art until summer break. Usually what happens to me is that when I look forward to something I get into a frenzy planning for it and can't concentrate on anything else!

Don't forget the sunscreen, puppets!
Diana

New shot!

Hey puppets! It's spring break but the heat is more like summer today. It has arrived too quickly if you ask me...

I have no plans for break, so I'm just going to hang around watching TV, going for walks, and taking pictures. I have a few ideas that I'm going to work at now but will take a while to culminate. But no worries, I have some new things to upload today! My latest, shot a couple weeks ago but posted only today:



I'm happy with what I've been getting done this year. I finally feel more free knowing that I can be a perfectionist without being picky. I've come to accept, however, that I might now be able to make a career out of this. I'm not sure how I could commercialize what I do. Most of my pictures are set up in my bedroom with cheap stuff I get at CVS, or things I find. Like any magazine would commission me for editorials! I'm afraid of what happened to my work last year happening again if I try to force fashion/beauty into my pictures. Maybe it'll come to me eventually, but for now I'm fine with my window light and my paints. I do want to experiment with my lights more, but not in the sense that I want to find the most even, bland, technically "perfect" lighting in the book. And at some point it'd be nice to work with models, but I don't want to lose sight of what makes me feel good about my art. All things in time...

Oh, but I have been contacted by a magazine for a feature. Details will follow as they become more clear! Anyone know any good US based photo magazines I could submit to? All the photography magazines are in the UK and they don't take my work! =P

I've also realized something about myself: I love TV!!! I know it's supposed to make your IQ plunge into the negative range, but I think if you have a good balance between life and TV you'll be fine. And I don't watch EVERY show out there, but there are many I follow.

There is still way too much school ahead of me...two months left!! Summer is still a mystery. Maybe I'll go to Montana, maybe I'll stick around LA. I have no clue yet. But for now, I'm just trying to get through my classes and figure out what my life will be like. And I'm going to dance! I can't wait to start again. I also finally bought a swimsuit for the first time in ages. I haven't been swimming in YEARS.

Keep cool, puppets!
Diana

God, this movie makes me wish I were still in high school:






Anyways, I have lots of things to look forward to in the coming months, so I'll keep you posted!

Later puppets,
Diana

I need to post here more often! But to be honest, the only thing going on right now is school. This is in part due to my computer out for its final repair so I can't edit pictures quite yet, so I suppose I'll talk about, well, school.

This is the first week of the spring term, and so far things are going nicely. My classes are history of art (from the Renaissance onward), Italian 2, Voice Techniques, Modern Dance, and Music Sight Reading. For now my favorite classes are definitely voice and dance. History of art is pretty interesting thanks to my interest in the subject matter and the cool teacher. We're just going over pre-Renaissance very briefly as a preface, and then we'll commence the lovely subject at hand. I have a thing for Dutch painters (Vermeer being my favorite) and a strange obsession with still lifes! Italian is fine, it's another subject I'm interested in, but I need more practice in conversation as opposed to writing assignments. I LOVE my dance and voice classes. I took ballet last term and wasn't particularly thrilled with how it ended up, but modern dance is so much more free-form and I really feel it. My voice class is one where I have tons of objectives, but we've only met twice and I already and starting to feel a bit of a difference! I'm hoping I'll be able to get some private training on the side, too. There's no verdict on the sight reading class yet, as it begins tomorrow.

I'm starting to think about transferring to another college, but I have to choose a major and I have no clue what I want to do. Of course I'm trying to pursue a creative career but I'm not sure I want to actually major in photography, y'know? Okay first off, I'm hoping to transfer to UCSB unless I decide on a more specialized pursuit. I did a summer program there a few years ago and although that didn't exactly go as merrily as it should have, in retrospect I find that I was most comfortable there at UCSB. Now as for a major...I was thinking Renaissance Studies or music. Renaissance studies would be the most plausible given that it is an academic major and therefore acquiring the knowledge of the subject won't be a difficulty, but my issue is that I absolutely abhor writing research papers with a passion that bores through my soul like a jackhammer and I have a feeling that Ren studies would have a lot of research. Music, on the other hand, would be quite enjoyable, but my issue is that most people who pursue music majors have been doing so for 10 or more years before college, which put me in a bit of a predicament.

My solution? Take it a day at a time. It'll come to me.

Okay, as for artsy stuff, my latest tick is really frakking cheap setups. So much fun! I'm going to raid the 99 cent store sometime this week. Who knew there could be so much usable stuff there?

I'm off to practice breathing (for voice)! I need more books to read too...

On the morrow, puppets!
Diana

I know, no post in ages, but today there's something I want to address that's just been bothering me. I'll try to be snappy because I'm off to see Coraline in an hour, so bear with me.

I just want to remind everyone that this is the Internet. Not real life. I'm not on here all the time. So if I do not respond to people's messages, comments, etc. in 2 minutes, 2 days, or even 2 weeks, it's usually not because I'm ignoring you. I just have other things to do. When messages go un-replied online, there are usually 293864 reasons why this issue hasn't been attended to. My computer could be broken (which it annoyingly often is). I could be having liver surgery. I might just find you creepy and am trying to avoid you. But give me a break, okay?

I'd understand why you'd be pissed if you speak to me and I illicit no response whilst sitting at the same table in real life. Yeah, that's rude. But for the love of God, this is the Internet. I think we all get a little bit caught up on the technology that we use. Modern electronics has made communication fast, cheap, and easy. If we were using Pony Express and your message took ten days to get over here, I'd probably respond ASAP. However, such is not the case.

Shockingly enough, there is life off the computer. I do go to school. I have tests to study for, homework to complete, family to chill with and talk to, laundry to clean, cats to feed and play with, pictures to take, ideas to brainstorm, meals to eat, meals to avoid eating, feminists to piss off, hygiene to upkeep, snakes to charm, muscles to exercise, crimes that need avenging, groceries to sort, walks to take, and come on, James Bond isn't going to watch himself. And I just want to clarify that I would never fail to respond to a message because I "think I'm above someone." I don't want that people to have that false impression of me.

So please understand that it's really nothing personal. You don't have to be a complete dick with me if I don't get back to you in .93457 milliseconds. To be honest, I suggest you get a life too. It's a nice feeling.

Take care puppets,
Diana

My darling puppets, the wait has ended and the beginning of a new era has commenced. I address you this evening, the twenty-second of December in the year two-thousand and eight at 7:08 PM Pacific Standard Time, to announce that I am now the proud owner of my very own Canon 5D Mark II. May the festivities begin!



Now dears, as with every union, my divine new companion and I will be taking a honeymoon. During this time we will explore the curves of each others bodies, the essence of every breath we take together, and the chemistry that joins us as one. Each minute spent will become a moment of glory, nay, history as we journey down the path of creative freedom hand-in-grip. Our bond is untouchable; our energy electric. The vows we exchanged will remain forever unbroken.

Our honeymoon will be a testament to the righteous future we embrace. Therefore, it is only proper that this time be spent in the privacy and sanctity of our own walls. We will no doubt invite you to the christening, but some rites of passage must be fulfilled far from peering eyes. But you shall see the fruits of our fine endeavors within the upcoming weeks!

And now, my puppets, I bid thee good night. And to my dear new mate, I bid hello!
Diana

P.S. I will also be naming my lovely new partner. He will be properly introduced to you after our honeymoon is well and done!

Puppets, I've recently been trying to break out of my comfort zone and try to be a bit less of a control freak. So one thing I've been doing is making silly little videos and posting them on my Facebook account. They're obviously not masterpieces, but they're fun to do! I made this one yesterday:



Goodness, I can't wait for HD video capture on the new 5D! My computer needs more RAM, though, so I hope I can keep up.

Anyways, I'm going to make a craft store run in the next few days, just to see what fun stuff I can come up with. Take care!

Catch you later, puppets!
Diana

P.S. This is probably my favorite SNL skit ever.

Puppets, my 3 days of dentistry work are complete. Cavities filled, gums scaled, teeth cleaned. I know it sounds like my mouth turned into some Scandinavian bog between dentist visits, but I assure you this wasn't so. You know how dentists are...you brush twice a day, floss when you feel like it, maybe commit to buy some Listerine for a few months, and when you feel like you've pampered your mouth enough your dentist says, "Assistant, get me the large scraper, we've got to clean you out. You should really brush more!! And there's some buildup in the very back of your mouth where the molars push out of the gums..." etc.

But today I'd like to address the miracle of science known as anesthetics. When it comes to painful medical procedures, I'd like to be as numbed and desensitized, but still as concious, as possible. If it were by me, I'd like to be so pain free during surgeries that I could just sit up and watch the doctors remove half my liver. What can I say, there's nothing like the real thing. But yes, my desire to be pain free clashes with my distaste for needles. I like looking at needles, I like holding needles, I can watch other people be stuck with needles, but getting shots is a big panic point for me. Despite what the doctors say ("This one honestly won't hurt!!") I feel them every time. So how do you think I felt when the dentists told me that over 2 days, my mouth would be stuck about 9 times? Not. Fun. Like. Carousels.

The first day I had my cleaning. The second day was when all the happy shots began. First came the topical so that the dentists could add to their argument that it wouldn't hurt. Then came the needles. All four of them. I decided to try that thing people keep telling me to do...close my eyes and count to 10. Surprisingly enough, it helped a little (although I still wish I had a mirror to watch, or at least someone to take pictures for souvenirs); I didn't feel the rest of the needles after the first one. For the rest of the procedure I closed my eyes and pictured myself as being some part of horrible, substandard operation in a dank, dark operating room with fluorescent green lights. You all should try it sometime, it really sets this mood. But on the topic of pain, I was so numbed that my dentist could have been carving the Statue of David of my molars for all I knew.

Day three was very much the same, but on the other side of my mouth and with as much procaine as a squirrel has blood. I think they have this policy where they can't numb your entire mouth...and let me tell you why. They didn't just numb my gums and teeth. They numbed my cheek, half of my tongue, my chin, and part of my nose. I could barely hold my face into a semi-normal position for 4 hours afterward and I was pretty sure it would slide off if I let it. When I ate food, if a bite ended up on the numbed half of my mouth I couldn't get it out without trouble. If I ate very very hot food, I had to keep it away from the anesthetized part otherwise I couldn't feel if it was burning or not. But the creepiest/most fun thing was what it felt like to touch the numbed parts: my fingers felt my face but my face didn't feel back. Licking my lips felt like I was tonguing a corpse (finally got that curiosity out of the way)!

But now my mouth is healthy and my face and nerves are back to normal. All I have to do is wash with a medicated rinse for a couple of weeks and I'm good...until I get my wisdoms removed sometime within the year. There's a bone saw somewhere with my name on it...

Another day, puppets!
Diana

Arhghghghhg, puppets, I've fallen out of the blogosphere! But fear not, I am vowing to write often once more. It'll be a new years resolution! But yes, here's life for me so far:

Tomorrow at 9 AM I get to go to the dentist to have my gums scaled or what not, which involves needles of giddiness injected into my mouth flesh while doctors work fun equipment around my teeth while I smell their latex gloves covered in my blood under my nose. All the fun stuff. I should get dad to take pictures. It would be 50 times cooler if I could watch this happening to someone else, but nay, life does not work in such a manner. Did I mention I have to have another dental escapade the day after tomorrow as well? Not even I know what is going on!!

I am still on the waiting list for the Canon 5D Mark II. Actually, I'm on 2 waiting lists...one here in LA and another in Montana. Because the LA waiting list is over 200 people, and the Montana waiting list is about 20 people, so we'll see who gives me the call first. Did I mention I'm back in LA? Yep, killer joy like you've never seen.

I've registered for classes now, but since I'm starting in the intercession my brain and sanity can only handle so many classes. Therefore, I have opted for Italian and ballet, both of which I am eager to begin! AND one of the most awesome things about the school is that THE MOST awesome thrift store I have ever encountered in LA is just a block and a half away!! In fact, I went there today and bought 2 huge, poofy dresses, a large petticoat to go with them, and a lovely garden dress. You'll see them eventually!

Please allow me one paragraph to dedicate to things superficial...ugh, please don't make me start. It's not like tragedy has struck, but I've gained a teensy bit of weight upon my return thanks to the change in diet. I'm positive I will lose the weight once school begins, but for now I feel pretty crappy about it. I try to go on a hike everyday but it's been hard this past week to keep up thanks to the parade of doctors appointments I've had. Bad news: according to my doctor, a growth spurt is unlikely to happen. I swear, I would donate a 3rd of my liver if it meant I could gain another 6 inches in height! But I suppose 5'2" it is. For now. I also got my hair trimmed today for the first time in ages! I am never ever going to cut my hair, so I asked my hairdresser to trim the minimum healthy amount as possible. My hair is about 2 feet long, but losing and inch and a half is really noticeable for me! Hopefully I'll grow it back in no time.

Anyways, I hope to get more things to write about as life picks up again. I'm (hopefully) going to stay with my family in Rome for Christmas, so maybe I'll be able to feel lovely again as I always do when I return to the motherland.

Take care, puppets!
Diana

P.S. Funny story today, I was at my college asking about bus routes and this guy comes up to me, asks my nationality, and then gives me his address so I can send him a postcard from Italy! I wish I had gall like that.

Puppets, puppies, porcelain pop tarts, I know it has been a while! I need to get back into the swing of blogging. I've become extremely introverted within the past month, rediscovered the joys of paper journals, lots of personal changes going on...but now I shall fill you in!

First and foremost, I am returning to California! Yes, in about a week or so I will be back in LA. In January I will be starting school again, this time at a community college. I'm working very very hard to staying positive! I'm excited to come home. Nervous, yes. But hopeful and optimistic. I've changed so much in the 8 months I've been away! This week is my last week of work at the grocery store, and after that who knows when I'll get another job? But the experience has been enriching, to sum it up. I'm going to miss making my own money.

More fun news: on the 28th of October I took a little flight over to the sparkling metropolis of San Fransisco to once again visit Zeynep! We both became ill and were not in the mood to take pictures, so we merely chilled, watched movies, did a little shopping, and celebrated her 17th. Halloween was cancelled due to our illnesses, so we stayed in and watched The Matrix: Reloaded. Then on the weekend we went to the Asian Art Museum, where Zee and her mom met my dad and grandmother! Mind you, I haven't seen my grandmother since February, and my father since April, so it was a nice reunion. And hopefully this means my dad will let me visit Zee again!

Speaking of pictures, let me state the obvious: I haven't taken any in...over a month. Because I'm waiting for the Canon 5d Mark II. I thought it was being released at the end of this month, but apparently the new word is that December is the more likely time. It had BETTER be released before I leave for my family visit in Italy. I'm proud of myself for saving enough money for the new camera...I have a plethora or accessories I need to buy for it, but I might ring in the new purchase with some new lighting equipment (I'm thinking a smaller softbox, a boom, grids, barndoors, or reflectors), maybe even a new lens. I'll need to figure out my expenses, but I need to treat myself and kick this photography thing back into formation.

My cold is almost gone, but I have a lip infection that's positively puzzling me. The swelling has gone down for the most part, but it's extremely uncomfortable right now. Ack, oh well...

Anyways, that's a generic update for you. See you in California!

Farewell puppets!
Diana

...sounds like the name of a band, no? How about "The United States and Our Struggling Economy" or "Diana and her Massive Rant?"

Please note that I'm just a citizen with an opinion. This is my view from the outside looking in, this isn't me trying to convince people I am the smartest/coolest/best person biology ever created.

I'll kick this off with economy. I am not in a position of financial trouble at the moment. I mean, I'm not rich or anything but I don't have debts to pay. I don't have a credit card, a credit score, credit anything. I'm an innocent little minor, for the love of God. Admittedly, it is a little surreal to turn on the radio and hear, "The Dow plunged another ___ points today..." when I remember just a few months ago sitting at the TV and hearing, "The Dow is up 3 points, the NASDAQ down 2." Then again, just a few months ago I was in the quaint village of Los Angeles walking through Old Town, sneaking out of the house to buy a tube of mascara at CVS, and wearing tights and skirts and now I'm in the wilderness of Montana, making my own money, and watching the snow fall outside as I eagerly await the November release of the Canon 5D Mark II. So yeah, maybe it's going to take a bit more than numbers to surprise me.

I'm not saying this isn't a big problem. Everyday I hear how people close to me are affected by this negatively. I knew that it was impossible for me to live my entire life without a few tragedies happening, but now I wonder if doomsday is scheduled at a closer date than we thought. Have you watched the Discovery Channel lately? According to them, Vesuvius and Yellowstone National Park (which I happen to live less than a mile away from) are due to erupt, asteroids are going to make contact with Earth in the next 30 years, we're running out of oil, the ozone is depleting, the polar ice caps are melting, nuclear weapons are or are not being developed, and our entire world is becoming fatter. Bad timing much? I thought all I had to worry about were the aliens attacking. This isn't Armageddon because not even God could make this up. What a great time to be a human being...

At least I can turn on the radio and find myself entertained by the hilarious joke of a circus act we call politics. It seems as though I'm the only one who listens to the debates and speeches and hears nothing but a pack of lies and false promises. Seriously, when has ANY president fulfilled every promise he made to America during his campaign? Why should I trust anyone more than I ever have? The world is in shambles! Why am I some beast because I don't buy into any of this at this point in history? Neither of the candidates is Superman (thank god, because picturing them in spandex is not encouraging). I've never been politically charged, true, but sorry if thinking realistically prevents me from picking a side. Open your eyes: America is not the golden country it used to be.

Due to my lack of televisual broadcast, I listen to the radio to keep up-to-date on current events. Sometimes I wish I didn't because while my family hears the report on elections, economy, and foreign matters, all I hear are the reporters and politician masturbating. Seriously. Gross, right? Every time there is some sort of catastrophe, the politicians and the media come in their pants because they finally have something to talk about. The little voices out of the speaker are excellent when it comes to the talk, talk, talk, but what about the walk, walk, walk? When will everyone start actually doing anything about all of our problems? Do you really think that you buying a couple of Green Bags is going to save the rain forest? Or that one person riding a bike is going to lower gas prices? We only think this because we expect the big guys at the top to do the real work. Guess what? They're busy with one hand counting their cash and the other hand down their pants, their mouths telling us what we want to hear.

Stop expecting someone else to make a difference for you. For us. This is a group effort here. Sure, voting is a matter of faith, but be honest; we're never going to know who's best for the job until after they are elected and put to the test in the Oval Office. Do you really trust them that much? We've had horrible presidencies before, who's to say it's never going to happen again? Enough with dividing ourselves into parties and cutting each others' throats; how are we supposed to be a nation united as one if we're so busy pitting ourselves against each other? I'm not saying don't vote. I'm not saying "fuck democracy," or that politicians are evil (although the corruption is undeniable). I'm saying that if we really want to make a difference, things are going to have to change massively. We can't keep acting as though everything is business as usual because obviously keeping things exactly as they always have been hasn't been working. Going through the motions won't change a thing...we need more than that. If you want to use the word "revolution," fine, because that's the closest word for what we need that I can come up with. That doesn't mean we storm DC with torches and pick-axes, it means we toss out the garbage and take it from the top. We use our brains for once instead of our wallets. Things will not be the same six months, a year, 5 years from now. And they shouldn't be. We just need to decide if the change is for betterment or for destruction before it's too late.

Anyways, I didn't expect to write this much. Please don't bite my head off if you have problems with what I wrote. Have a nice Sunday everyone! =)

Later, puppets
Diana

I've been experiencing different lifestyles for a while now...I've tried out the school lifestyle. Small-town life, check. Working life, check. Now I'm applying for schools, but there is one method of living that, besides the pirate life, is the one I know deep deep down is truly the life for me. And that would be expatriatism.

It's no secret that I'm obsessed with travelling...at least every other blog I write details how I pine for Europe, for the concourse of an airport, for the excitement of being somewhere different. I can't help it...everywhere that feels like home is everywhere but home. When I finally get into a stable situation (but hopefully before that) I want to live extensively in all parts of the world. My dad is constantly telling me, "Diana, I have a feeling that if somebody told you right now that you could live in Italy you would be off without a thought," as if it's a bad thing, and obviously it would be true. I see no point in staying grounded and dissatisfied just for the sake of convenience! When my heart cries out for something more, how could I possibly ignore it?

I have every intention to carry out my plans for expatriatism, but first I need actual plans. And roots in the places I want to live. And lots of money, unfortunately...but I am determined! I will find a way to carry out the immersion my conciousness so desperately longs for...sigh...

Anyways, while my mind is busy dreaming of far off places, my eyes are busy with the deliciousness of Rum Tum Tugger.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4G8WMbmCJY



What can I say, I love a good musical. Meowrrr.

Later, puppets,
Diana

Long time no post, I know. Life has been indescribable at the moment...but tonight (if my mom doesn't rip the power cord out of the wall) I bring you a semi-vent issue about my job.

It's about the customers. Specifically, those of the male gender. And how they look at me. And talk to me. And thoroughly creep me out.

Now, let me hit some targets while I'm behind this rifle; this isn't a feminist castration rant, and I'm not crying to mommy because some 60+ year-old man called me "baby." This is more about how completely alien this kind of attention is to me. Growing up I was never really found alluring by guys, a trend which continued through middle and high school. Some blame idiocy on the opposite part, I blame it on the powers that be. And that I was kind of an idiot back then, too...but anyways, all this attention is recent, save for this pedophile guy who always talked to me at a grocery store when I was 9 (in case you were wondering, my dad swooped in in time to extricate me from that situation).

I'm not freaking out too much because I know this is something I'll have to get used to. While it is flattering in a very very very sad way to see that someone thinks I conform to whatever fetish they have, I can't help but notice the kind of men they are; typically old (older than my tastes, and that's saying a lot), smelly, and obviously desperate. And usually buying a can of beer, with a belly to match. Get the picture yet? I'm seriously waiting for the day one of them lays a hand on me so I can pull out the cash register, swing it over their head, and crack their skull open on my counter.

You'd be surprised at how many men wink at me behind their wives' backs. I don't get it...what is it about the cashier girl that gets them hard? For the love of God, go home and make love to your wife/lover/wife's lover's dog. Just don't rape me with your eyes the way you do. Don't try to curl your fingers around mine when I give you change. Don't call me sweetheart, or dear, or whatever objectifying phrase you can recall from your 80's porn collection, and especially not in that tone that sounds like you're still coming down from this morning's major monkey-spank session. I'm paid to sell you your Slim Jims and Bud Light, not to give in to your coveted fantasies of getting blown is Aisle 7. Sorry, try that at Wal-Mart, you'll probably have better luck.

To be honest, no one really touches me or anything, and getting dirty talk is isolated in occurrence. But what bothers me are the little things...like the looks I get, or the fake conversation men put up. Especially that. When I hear things in that tone like, "I won't be in town for a day or two," I register it as, "I want to go down on you," and I want to smash their eggs and shout, "No, I will not unzip for you, you freak!"

Instead I stay silent. And that's what bothers me most of all...knowing I can't act out in disgust because my job is on the line. Apparently employers don't think an employee who kicks their customers in the dick is good for business. Half the time I'm not sure what I would say or do anyways, but that's not my kind of discomfort and I hate knowing that they probably know how awkward I feel.

Let it be known that I'm not constantly harassed and that nothing too serious happens, but still, I wish I had more control of the situation. I'm sure you know what I mean. And on a completely immature note, the attention wouldn't bother my half as much if the offender were attractive in the least! It's one thing to hear, "You should be in the movies!" from a nearly-geriatric alkie, but if those words came from the lips of a svelte, well-cut male I might just react a bit more gently (oh yeah, think suggestive, I'll invite you to that party).

Anyways, enough of my talking in circles. It's time for beddie-bye!

G'night, puppets!
Diana

http://www.usa.canon.com/consumer/controller?act=ModelInfoAct&fcategoryid=139&modelid=17662#ModelDetailAct


yes, yes, YES! Finally, after months of work, over a year of hope, and enough patience to re-stone the Appian Way, I can successfully say that I can afford this camera. It'll be available at the end of November so the waiting is not over yet, but that time is going to fly now that I know that all the cashiering is for a reason! I'm really proud of myself; had this been me 6 months ago, I would have spent all that money on clothes and antiques, but I didn't. I stuck to this goal.


http://www.marketwatch.com/news/story/canon-usa-introduces-highly-anticipated/story.aspx?guid=%7BA9326CCF-9CD6-4BB7-AFC4-8DA5441F6C7E%7D&dist=hppr


Some features on the camera I don't particularly care for (Live View and HD Video Capture being the main ones) but the rest make my lungs shrink with delight! 21.2 MPs! Illumination Correction! Lighting Optimizer! Fuck me! Not to mention the price is better than I expected ($2,700 for just the body...meaning I can probably afford to get a battery grip, extra memory cards, a compatible remote, and maybe even some polarizer filters!)

Wow...just, wow. I don't know what sex feels like, but this is better than it!

See you in November, my mysterious knight!Diana

If I ever tell you "I envy you!!" I'm not saying it so that you in return will tell me "Well, I envy you!" I'm over that stage of my life. No, I'm saying it because it's the truth.

I'm saying it because it's more honest than "Great job!" or "You're awesome!" because 88.4398% of the time, any form of congratulation is a watered-down expression of jealousy. The other 11.5602% of the time, the praise is left-handed.

Why hide it? I mean, envy, while one of the most agonizing of emotions, is a form of flattery. It's not like it's a bad thing if I tell you of my jealousy. Doesn't it feel good to know I am committing sins of envy in your favor? Sure, it's harder to respond to than a simple compliment, but it's more succinct and much less trite. Not to mention, as the point of all this is, it's as honest as you can get.

Facts of life, as dictated by gods upon columns of alabaster, declare that when you say, "I'm so happy for you!" it translates as "I envy every cell in your body with the fury of a thousand cyclones." Stop acting like you wouldn't give your right ear to trade places with whoever is on the receiving end of your compliments.

So in conclusion, I do not say "I envy you!" as a statement of sycophantic, self-sufficing attention seeking...I say it so that you actually know how I feel about whatever it is you happen to be doing (or just happen to be).

Later, puppets,
Diana

I've started a 3 day watermelon fast, puppets! Nothing but watermelon for the next three days. I'm excited, and I'll let you know how it goes!

Gahhh, I'm getting a little worried because every time you google my name, this last.fm page I made for myself ages ago shows up in some of the first results...which sucks because it is totally embarrassing! Hahah. I wish last.fm would let me delete the page! At least I was able t edit it into a less sad version of what it was before...

I keep hearing more rumours about the new Canon 5D that I've been saving up for...if the rumours are true, I almost have enough to get it!! I'm so thrilled, I hope it's all true! And if it's true, I'll have enough money for the camera and, with a few more month's work, a ticket to Italy this winter! Optimism is key, so more the more positive thoughts the better.

I've been rolling around a lot of relationship/male species thoughts recently as well...very confusing, and, unfortunately, not as optimistic. Bummer.

Anyways, another short update. My birthday is next week...I'm trying to hide this fact from my co-workers because then they'll make me a cake. And I'll have to eat it *dies*

Baci, puppets!
Diana

Sorry, m'dahlings, I've been overwhelmed the past few weeks. Mainly with work...and decisions. I'm making money, which is good, and I'm getting closer to my goals. My short-term financial goals, to be specific. Because this is not a way to live. I can't let myself get used to this lifestyle.

Now I have a little dilemma: when I get enough money, do I get the camera that I've been halting my artistic production in anticipation for? Or do I buy a ticket for a several-months stay in my heartland? At the rate I'm making money, I cannot have both. Which dream do I choose?

I'll have to figure that out, and soon.

Another thing that has been bothering me with my equipment; my lighting. I am very grateful to have the lighting that I have, but the truth is that the brand I use isn't that versatile. I didn't get to choose the brand. If I could choose a brand, I would go with Profoto hands down. But ProFoto is super-expensive! So I guess I need to make more money somehow? Yes yes, Diana, you do.

Anyways, I have a lot of things to sort out. I can barely think straight at the moment. See you soon, hopefully.

Hugs and raspberries for my puppets!
Diana

Last night, while on one of my bi-monthly trips to civilization, I finally got to see The Dark Knight. Get ready to hear the same thing everyone else is saying: it was amazing. Not only did it match the hype it received, it surpassed it. The Dark Knight is a whole new breed of superhero movie. Moving, delicious, and thrilling, it was worth the $7 I paid to see it on the big screen. And I would see it again if only convenience were on my side.

Now for another re-visited fact: Heath Ledger did an astronomically incredible job as the Joker. I really don't know what else to say...he completely transformed into the super-villain of my dreams. Skill like that must be revered. Heath, Rest in peace.

See it if you haven't. And I'm buying it as soon as it's out on DVD.

More later, puppets!
Diana

Sorry for not posting for a while...I've been super behind on a lot of things. I mean, I have stuff to write about, but I just haven't had the time and patience to do so. Anyways, this is going to be a casual entry.

First off, I have Internet. And by that I mean I have a wireless router at home, so no more Internet cafe for me!!! This means I'm finally able to catch up on shows a well as (trying my best at) talking to people more efficiently. Speaking of shows...I was finally able to watch that last 2 episodes of House. Goodness...it was incredible. And sad. And now I can't wait for the DVDs to come out in a couple weeks! And am now caught up on the 4th season of the almighty Battlestar Galactica, so that's a major "hellzyeah!" all around. Not enough positive adjectives can be said about that show.

I really want to see The Dark Knight. Too bad there's no movie theatre in town! I haven't seen Batman Begins, so maybe I should start with that.

On a completely random note:

Ouch, Alison, your legs are amazing. I want them! I actually want any pair of legs that are lick-worthy, but because Alison is shorter than a supermodel they make me curse my genetics more. You could say my legs are my least favorite feature of mine...they cause me the most grief. Ahahah. But yes, I've been listening to Goldfrapp's Supernature on repeat for the past day or two...so glamtastic!

Oh, and I finally got around to some new pictures:

The bones are elk bones, by the way. My amazing landlord found them for me! I'm going to re-shoot this once I get my new camera...that is, if it even exists!

I'm in an intense travelling mood. I want to go back to Italy (my heart beats for the homeland daily), to Paris, to England, to visit Zeynep again, to DC, Philadelphia, NYC...I never need a reason to travel. I feel so out of place wherever I call home, but when I travel...God, I don't many many passions, but travelling is indescribably top for me. I wish I had the opportunity to do it more often. Every time I leave Rome, it continues to posses my desires, and when I return to those cobblestoned streets...it's like I never left.

An on that note...vado!

Baci,
Diana

Grocery stores are perhaps the unsung definition of predictable conventionality; the rows of bread stacked neatly in front of the bakery section, the floors waxed on a nightly basis, the effervescent staff, etc. That is, except the one I work at. Ignoring the black market in our basement and all the after-hours orgies, we experience power outages often, we make prank calls from our payphone, and our staff is more likely be abrasive to those who deserve it. Speaking of staff, we tend to have a bit of wiggle room, especially when it comes to our humour. I blame this on our close quarters, and this being a small town we're as local as you can get. Familiarity brings out the casual side in us. Take, for instance, this one dialogue with my boss. He was helping me bag this one woman's beer and decided to strike up a friendly banter between himself and me.

"Are you a beer drinker?" he asks, fully aware of the fact that I won't be able to legally drink for almost 3 more years. I play along with the most smug, glib tone I could muster.

"Yeah, big time."
"Bud Light?"
"Anything really. As long as it's beer."

Neglecting the fact that I've never had, and don't intend to have, a sip of beer in my life, I was enjoying the act. The woman laughed, left, and we carried on. Fast forward 10 minutes to when I was closing my till for the night. My boss was fetching me some change with which to restock my drawer, and somehow that led him back to the previous joke.

"All that beer drinking is going to get you into trouble."
"Yeah, I know. From experience."

I thought that was suggestive enough, but the fact of my being a juvenile was still afresh in his mind so he took my response in a mild context.

"And not just by mommy and daddy," he said with a knowing look in his eyes. Now was my chance to land the nuke.
"I know...from experience."

Boom.

Cat-calls and owwwwwwwwoooooohs ensued, as I expected. I can't help it, I love entertaining others.

A co-worker turned around and smiled, "Whoaaaa, Diana, you've been holding out on us!!"

My boss, who relishes in this kind of reference, added enthusiastically, "Ooooow, and how far did that baseball game go exactly?"

I was spinning up the gears for a swift, virginity redeeming reply but was cut off by business talk. What could I say? The baseball game, to be honest, has never even begun for me. And I doubt it will for a while. I'm not really ashamed of this fact, and I'm actually very open when it comes to the topic of sexuality. The thing is, people don't believe me when I tell them I've never had a boyfriend, let alone been kissed. Take, for example, this dialogue with my boss as I was closing my till one evening:

"Why are you smiling, Diana?"
"Ah, no reason."
"....what's his name?"
"What?!? There's no one!"
"C'mon, who is he?"
"There is no one, and there never has been--"
"What? That's not true."
"But it is. Guys just...don't like me."
"Nahh, they're just afraid of you. You have all the right parts."
"Well, they should be afraid..."

That has to be the third time someone tells me guys are just afraid of me. I can see why guys would be afraid (or perhaps just apprehensive), but I think one of my good Russian friends at work pinned a more accurate explanation for my fate:

"You seriously never had a boyfriend? Oh my god, guys are stupid!"

To be fair, all the guys I've had contact with thus far aren't my type anyways. Most of my guy interaction happened in high school, and those boys' tastes in girls were so stereotypical that I could hardly believe such common ideals could possibly exist in real life. You know, they were into the typical California girl archetype...blond (or at least valley enough to make up for it), vacant (faking stupidity was also good enough for them), leggy, bouncy, etc. And I was the girl with bushy hair who broke out into Billy Joel songs at random, spontaneously wore shamefully uncoordinated outfits, and embarrassed herself more often than she took two breaths. Even if they did like me they just weren't my type and I probably would have turned them down had they vied for my affections. Unfortunately, if I had a relationship with a guy who was of my taste he would be in jail for statutory rape. Seriously, maturity all the way. And perverts, stay away.

Okay, enough with that tangent. Onward with more dialogue!

One more worth mentioning...here's the scenario: this guy walks in shirtless, despite the sign on the door that says "No shoes, no shirt, no service." It would have been forgivable had his physique been at all pleasing to the eye, but it wasn't. In fact, if I had things my way I would have a shirt stitched permanently onto his flesh -- hmmm, that's a good idea actually. When I become supreme ruler of Earth I may have to make that a policy...anyways: enter Gross, Part I. Then he pays me with wet money. I get wet bills often, really, because rafting is part of the tourist activity here and people's wallets get soaked with river water. Regardless, it's still disgusting because all the crap on the bill becomes saturated, and besides...how do I know that's just water and nothing more? It could be sweat secreted from unsavory anatomy, or some other horrific, unmentionable body fluid. So that was Gross, Part II. I handle the bills with my fingertips and do my best to not look at his...form. Which should have been easier considering the unattractive nature of it all, but this man had the advantage of being at least 12 inches taller than me as well as being very wide (in all directions, might I add). He was the Berlin Wall of Repulsiveness; on one side, me. On the other, the Saint Mercy full of grace in the form of shopping carts, firewood, and peaches. Still, I did my best to avoid resting my eyes on him for more than a millisecond for fear my retinas would self-destruct. I burrowed my vision in the money drawer and began to extract his change...

"I'm sorry about not having a shirt"

You should be, I thought. But no, a welcoming attitude is what the local small-town grocery store is about. Appreciative of his remorse (which still failed to cancel out the horrible crime he perpetrated on my memory), I proceeded to leaf out his change as I nonchalantly replied, "Nah, it's all right."

"Really? It looked like you made a face."

What the hell? I was not expecting that. Do you blame me? I looked up at him and quickly put my most sincere smile on. If I had made a face, I had obviously been caught. I learned that under extreme pressure, my body has more control over itself than my mind. This guy was not here to play games...so I whipped up the most sincere tone possible with a white lie to match.

"Oh, no, I've just been standing up for 7 hours."

More like 2, actually. And even so, I'm not that much of a lightweight. But lies for the benefit of others are always self serving, no? Razzle dazzle them, as the song goes. Of course, what I really wanted to say was "Yeah, I made a face. I was hoping it would result in some Medusoid chain of events where you would turn into stone and disintegrate, but I forgot to pray before bed last night so I suppose God wasn't too inclined to grant me a miracle. Satisfied?"

But I didn't. Because I'm a respectful being who just thinks what everyone else is thinking without actually saying it. I don't think that makes me a bitch. What kind of answer did he honestly expect?? Don't start something you can't finish sir, because you could have actually had a bitch checker who told you what everyone wanted to say. What now?

But yes, this entry has run long enough I believe. Hope you enjoyed the latest Cashier Chronicles! (See how I gave these occupational commentary blogs a name? That's me pretending I'm a legit columnist, which I'm not. Yet.)


Safe shopping, puppets!
Diana

P.S. I'm getting wireless in a few days, so no more Internet cafe! Therefore, more efficient posting. =)

P.P.S. Look who got a Facebook....

I know, I know; every time you proceed to the supermarket checkout counter you just gaze at the checker in sheer envy of their position. The parties, the sex, the glamour...who wouldn't give their left eye to be where I am? I find myself very lucky with the knowledge that only few achieve such an honor as righteous as this. In an effort to be gracious, I have compiled a list from my throne on high of dos and don'ts for aspiring cashiers*. Read and take notes, my suckling lambs, you don't get inside information like this everyday.


DO, if there is a dress code, try to vamp it up as much as possible. A reputation as a stiff-collared prude is not beneficial if you intend to make progress in the grocery industry. Sex appeal is half of what it takes to get noticed more by your boss; swift scan-and-bag skills and putting out on a regular basis are the rest. But be tasteful...you don't want the customers to think you'll sell them more than just bread and paper towels.

DON'T dress radically if there is no stringent dress code. Wearing modest attire will help bring the number of passes from ogling, skeevy men down to a minimum, and will preserve your precious reputation as a virginal**, responsible employee with your boss and peers. NOTE: perverts will never be completely eradicated from the shopping system (they need to get their lube somewhere, after all), and they are still within their rights as a customer to shout out "Keep the change, baby!" and then scuttle back into the crevice from whence they came like the cockroaches they are.

DO fake a smile and laugh at the sad, pathetic observations customers make about the facility ("Oh, I'm supposed to go on this side of the counter!!"). DON'T make them feel stupid by telling them you hear the same trite phrases multiple times on an hourly basis, even if their IQ is obviously of lower numerical value than the pennies in the change bowl on the counter.

DO mix flattery with playful banter...example: "Why didn't you check my ID?" "You have honest eyes..." NOTE: choose your conversation victim wisely. Those with little sense of humor will not be appeased. But if you can swing it, bring it.

DON'T persist with sarcastic insults. Not only does it get old quickly, but you you hold up the line and risk a humiliating reprimand. Which is like acute cell death when it comes to the number of hours you get next week, and therefore your paycheck. Example "Hahah, you're the reason behind the 'No Shirt, No Service' sign on the door!"

DO handle money gingerly and accurately. Announce totals and change values audibly so the customer feels secure in their exchange. Be sure to count the cash being given to you for counterfeits, love notes, and inaccurate totals (if a customer plays you with their payment, the boss will say it's your fault). Take your time counting change so you don't give out the wrong amount. Work on perfecting the art of placing the change into the customer's hand, bills first, then coins.

DON'T toss the change onto the counter in front of your customer. Don't press the money forcefully into their hand, drop coins all over the place, and most definitely do NOT make contact with their skin as much as possible; remember, you're trying to give them their change, not a boner, so enough with the caressing of the bills in their palm.

DO greet every customer with a cheery "Hello! How are you doing today?" This will make them feel as though you take a special interest in them in particular, despite the fact that you probably don't. Let them ride the wave of feeling special right up to the shores of, "That's nice. Your total is $12.88."

DON'T go on talking about yourself for two minutes non-stop when asked by the the customer how you are doing. Give him a little credit: he gives just as much a damn about your happenings as you do his. Shut up and start bagging.

DO let your boss know which shifts you prefer. Make it clear that you can work whatever shifts he wants you to, but if he knows what you like he'll be more inclined to give you it. Also, all sexual favors between you and him are on your own time.

DON'T fall under the assumption that you can't ask for help. Better to ask boss for help than to mess up with the customer. However, don't be too bossy and assertive...You're a submissive little virgin, remember?

DO dance and be silly during the slow times with no customers. You need that break in order to stay sane after standing up for 7 hours, repeating the same things, and dealing with all those people. Save jumping on the counter and dancing for special occasions, and make sure to clean up after. Customers will not appreciate mysterious dirt in their fruit salads.

DON'T let your boss see your folly. Unless he is really cool with it and decides to join you in a fit of ergot-induced mania. And do NOT let your customers see you fooling around, otherwise they'll get the impression that you aren't devoted to serving them every waking moment of your day.

DO flirt mildly with worthy customers. Be cautious in doing this...less talking, more upward glances, hair flickings, tiny smiles, and suave credit card transactions. Do not exceed fluttering the eyelashes. This is a grocery store, not porn. If he likes you, he knows where to find you. Restrain all seckshual phantasies to your thoughts; no one wants you clean up after a lust-induced loss of composure with your customer.

DON'T make it a point to try and sexually manipulate every man who walks through your checkout counter. Though it may be fun at first, you'll eventually get exactly what you were looking for; dirty old men who come in three times a day just to drool at you over your change bowl. There is no repellent for these parasites, so remember that you must reap what you sow.

DO have multiple responses prepared and on the ready for quick and painless conversation. Just add enthusiasm and a cheeseball smile and you're good to go! Examples: "Hahah, don't worry about _______, you're not the first and you won't be the last!", "Yeah, we have no sales tax, but we have a ton of income tax!"

DON'T make the mistake of saying the same things over and over to each customer. They'll eventually catch onto the fact that they are not seen as special in your eyes and will simply become indifferent to your remarks. Eventually they will avoid your counter altogether, which results in a demotion or termination of your job.

DO remember that all of the customers' children are beautiful, adorable, and and simply darling, even if in reality they are filthy little brats who cry for soda and candy.

DON'T think that the male companion of any woman is handsome or desirable. This will only cause rage and envy on her part, and she will most definitely storm off in a huff and forget her box of tampons on the counter.

DO resist the urge to physically maim annoying and rude customers. The customer is always right, and you will always be fired, no matter how worth it it was to tear open their chest and punch them in the heart.

DON'T let yourself get walked all over. recall those days in sex-ed and in the school cafeteria? Your mentors always taught you to say NO. So say, "No, I really don't think that ice cream is on sale for 3 for $7.00." People will try to play you. Don't be a dummy.

DO make a point to look good. This echoes the "dress well" suggestion, but if you have a shabby visage you will look like you threw on your best outfit with no time to clean last night's wild sex off your face.

DON'T stare at customers incessantly. Unless their looks truly do result in a retinal orgy, but be sure to catch yourself before the drool escapes your lips. Do NOT stare at less-than-appealing customers; they are either blind to the fact that they do not know how to draw their eyebrows on properly, or are fully aware of this fault and are crying inside.

DO occasionally make friendly comments about the customers' purchases. Examples: "Oooh, marshmallows and chocolate, I wonder what's for dessert!!", "Nice choice with these avocados, I swear I can never find them ripe!"

DON'T make comments on sensitive goods that will only make you sound like a total dickhead. Examples: "Is this pregnancy test for you? Good luck!", "Rawr, condoms and whipped cream, look who's having fun tonight!"


*These suggestions apply to dealing with strangers, not people you are familiar with. You'll also notice all this information is directed toward the female humanoid creature. This is because rarely will you see a man as a cashier. Boss knows that women employees will attract more customers, and he probably enjoys our company just as much as every other man who shops there.

**For those wondering, my virginity happens to be pristine and in tact, so my reputation is rather deserved (even if I can be a little saucy on occasion).


Now fly, my chickies, and prosper in the world of retail!
Diana

Labels: advice, cashiers, dos and don'ts, grocery store, humor, jobs, sarcasm, service industry, shopping, suprmarket, working class

It's not all bad in the grocery business. In fact, this job really puts things in perspective: everyday my customers remind me why I'm glad to be single, why I don't want kids, and to thank God that I'm not fat.

Okay, that's a bit cruel. But what can I say? I can't sypathize, let alone relate, to people who don't bother to take care of their relationships, their children, or themselves. The frustration at the supermarket isn't all the staff's fault. And especially since I've been inhaling books on nutrition for the past two months, I think I can say that food really is a judge of character. So if you ever find a dollar bill that has "STOP CHILDHOOD OBESITY...EAT HEALTHY!" written on it, that's my doing. I don't think it's out of line. Most people have no idea what they're eating, but I'll save that for another blog entry.

I'm the one who has to stand for 7 hours a day putting up with exploding bags of Lemon Drops, juicy packs of meat secreting fluid on my hands, and listening to the same goddamn music on the radio. Seriously, there are only so many times you can listen to the song "Thnks fr th Mmrs" without wanting to scream, "Hello, 'Dance, Dance' is obviously Fall Out Boy's best single!!" (oops, that's not how that sentence was supposed to end...but I'm just saying that some of the music is so repet...oh, fuck it)


Anyways....

If you check my Flickr, you'll have seen I have new shots up...I learned a few things from those pictures:

1) Don't set lens flares at the highest power otherwise you get extremely harsh highlights
2) I'm thinner than I thought I was (yay!)
3) Never do an impulse photo shoot right before you're supposed to go to work, otherwise you look like a manic lion with lip gloss, and you're ten minutes late.

But yes, a few more paychecks and hopefully I'll have enough for my new camera!!

This is a weird entry, so I'll end it here.

Take no offense, puppets!
Diana

Ah, puppets, days off are lovely when they do arrive. They are even more lovely when Netflix decides to send DVDs on time, but you can't have everything. Reclining to the delightfully summery tunes of Ella Fitzgerald with a nice refreshing glass of calorie-free water will have to suffice till next weekend.

So today I was enjoying my second day off work when at 4:50 PM I get a pleasant little phone call from my boss...

"Diana?"
"Yes?"
"Do you feel like bailing me out?"
"Um...what does that mean?" (I'm not a total idiot, I knew what it meant, I just wanted to feign apprehension and groan-inducing disappointment)
"Work."
"Ah. When?"
"Tonight."
"You mean a regular shift?"
"Yeah, a 5 to 9 thing."
"Um...okay."
"You know that's in 10 minutes, right?"
"Uh...yeah (giggle)."
"Tell you what, I'm going to call one other person to see if they can do it, okay? And I'll call you back."
"Sure. Bye."

Then there was the ten minute scramble to make myself look presentable, which, following another 7 minutes (clock-saavy readers will time this to be approximately 5:08), ultimately reached its climax when my boss called back saying that I didn't have to go. Which was good, I suppose, but meant that I had wasted several grams of makeup for nothing.

If I had supermodel looks, by this time last year I would be ferried around the world shooting glamorous spreads for magazines, living the swift life, and I would still be in time to puke up the salad I had for lunch. I just keep telling myself one thing: This is the meantime. This is the meantime. Cities of awash with sparkle, splendor, and the brisk scent of freshly debauched innocence await me, I feel it!

When you're in a town that survives off of tourism, there are several tourist venues at which residents may find themselves working. Mine just happens to be a grocery store. And inevitably there are tourist questions. I wish I could write about skeezie perverts asking me about my virginity and my bra size, but I can't because that frankly hasn't happened (yet). The truth is, the most annoying questions are the most common. A lot of questions I get are mainly exclusive to the town/area in which I live, but there are a few that are probably relateable to cashiers everywhere. Here are the current top 5:


Q: "Is there a (insert name of huge conglomerated store chain here) in town?"

A: Take a look around you...there are trees, wildlife, and cabins. The closest thing we have to clothing stores are tourist T-shirt shops. Does it look to you like there's a Costco in town? And if I get asked one more time if we have a hardware store, I swear I am going to somehow buy a chainsaw and start eliminating limbs.


Q: "Are you sure that costs that much?"

A: See the barcode? See the scanner device? When I scan that barcode, the computer fishes out the price of your item so I don't have to memorize thousands of useless numbers. I don't make the prices. If the computer says that's how much it costs, then that's how much it costs and I'm sorry (but not really). So just pay for the fucking watermelon already, no need to look for one that weighs less!


Q: "Which ID do you want to see?"

A: Whichever is more convincing, really. As long as it has a picture of you, your signature, and your name so I can Google your ass later. I'm not a modelling agent, no need to get nitpicky here when is comes to cardage....what, you think you need to impress me or something?


Q: "Where's the bathroom?"

A: Just give me a moment, I'll draw you a map...so you can see how much of an inexperienced tourist you are. Bathrooms are ALWAYS in the most obvious place in the store. Not just that, it's the law to have a bathroom. So the next time I get this question I seriously will answer "No, we don't have one" just to see what happens. Then you can put 2 and 2 together and go look for it yourself. (By the way, it's immediately to your right as you enter, past the chips)


Q: "Oh, am I supposed to help?"

A: Let's explore the options here. Either you didn't develop the left side of your brain during fetal development, or I'm going to smack your wrists if you try to lend me a hand. Which is more likely? It's called logical thinking, why not take advantage of this human skill? Remember, this is what kept our ancestors from plunging themselves into tar pits and leaving their drinks unattended at all the Stone Age soirees. But there is a $15.00 fee for asking obvious questions (as well as me bagging your stuff, so either help out or fork it over).


And just to round this entry off right, here's my most annoying response of the week:

Q: "May I see your ID please?"

A: "Uh, I don't have it on me. I think it's in the car. Do you want me to go get it?"

R: "Yes, and while you're there could you slam your fingers in the car door? Thanks."

Thank you for sticking around for this...next time, you'll see list of products I just don't really...understand. Prepare yourselves!!

Farewell for now, puppets,
Diana

I have a plethora of updates, but funny thing is none of them are set in stone. So why bother at the moment?

Anyways, I've been really transforming this past month. I feel the best I've ever felt in many years. It's not like I'm rich, successful, and stunning yet, but I feel so much better about myself than when I used to have a higher standing. I really can't explain it.

Oh god, the grocery store job. SO many stories to tell!! I'm probably going to write you this massive, cynical, bitchtastic, brutal, hilarious blog soon attacking the customers I've encountered, but I figured I should give you a taste of the people who come through here:

To the guy with the chocolate fetish: Everything in this guy's basket has chocolate. Chocolate pudding, chocolate bars, chocolate pie crusts, chocolate chocolate chocolate! And no wonder your teeth are historically frakked. You couldn't find that shade of tooth in paint swatches at Home Depot, and you probably wouldn't want to anyways. But his girlfriend (sister? girlfriend and sister? I wouldn't be surprised) is...a contrast. Lovely girl indeed. So there must be something in that chocolate...or maybe in his pants. But who am I to say?

To the the older men who ask me why I don't card them for alcohol: Because you don't look under 21, or 30 for that matter. Because I know that it'll flatter you and you'll start to think I want to sleep with you (ironically, I'm more likely to be attracted to you if you're older, but pretend I didn't say that). Because if you really were under drinking age, that would mean I'm young enough to be legally aborted from my mother's womb. Enough said.

To the obese woman buying Cheetos for her infant son: I had to do a double take when I saw this one. Okay, let's just forget the fact that Cheetos and all other junk food are Satan in cheesy, crunchy form. How can you sleep at night knowing you are passing those awful eating habits to your kid?? You'd think that with all that we know about nutrition, people would make wiser choices. But no. Not 10 minutes goes by with out an overweight person with some crap food in hand. At least try! Ma'am, let me put it this way: your son is going to hate your guts when he grows up because you didn't teach him how to eat well. This isn't aesthetics (well, partially, but that's my catty side peeking through), this is health. Grow a brain, or maybe just pick up some mashed peas for your baby like any responsible mother would.

To the families who buy cartfuls of food and then expect me to do my job quickly without help: Let's look at this scenario: I'm ringing up your shit, you're standing on the other side of the counter in total silence, and the minutes are passing by. We're all really impatient and just want to go, but since I am your servant this is somehow my fault. What's wrong with this picture? Here's an idea, get a fucking bag and help me get this all out the door! Don't look at me like I'm trying to slow down your day because I couldn't care less. I know you and your blond children are too good for this and have never seen the other side of a service counter in your life, but I'd appreciate your help as much as you'd appreciate getting on the road ASAP. And then I check your ID and see you're from California...really!?! I couldn't have fucking guessed!!

Well, that's all I can recall the the moment, but prepare yourselves for future snarkyness.

Baci, puppets!
Diana