(Five is right out!)
Ok, so I'm stealing a meme from Alice because I'm bored and I want to write but my brain is sort of fluffy today.
Four jobs I was really, really bad at:
1) Cashier at Exxon. Actually, I wasn't so much bad at this job as I completely, utterly loathed it. I hated the customers, I hated the station, I particularly hated my boss. I got paid a grand total of $5.15 an hour, and at the end of my month, if I was lucky, I might have had an extra $10 left over to possibly think about maybe paying off some of my phone bill so that I could get my service turned back on and this middle-aged mother of four with a stupid name (Elinda...) used to have the nerve to bitch at me that she wasn't getting her goddamn quarterly bonus because I was letting people shoplift.
Oh yeah, I was, too. Excuse me, I get paid minimum-goddamn-wage here and I'm alone in this store for at least six hours of my shift every day. No, I'm not going to say anything to a shoplifter if I happen to see them (usually I didn't, anyway) because you know, I might get stabbed and I don't like this company enough to bleed for it.
2) Babysitter. I think every teenaged girl in America is a babysitter at one time or another. One summer, I got a job babysitting my geometry teacher's kids for an entire week while they were overseas. A five year old boy and a three year old boy, both who were multi-lingual (German and French, in addition to English, and when they were plotting against me, which was frequent, they'd speak in a different language) and wicked smart and not the least bit interested in behaving. Oh, it was a nightmare. It was partially from that experience that I made the vow 'no children. ever ever ever ever ever.' So, I guess ever ever came sooner than I thought. But gods, please, no children like that.
3) Insurance coordinator for funeral homes. This had to be one of the all-time most depressing jobs I've ever tried to do. Basically, what happened is that when someone dies, the funeral home asks for their insurance information (life insurance policies and stuff) so that the funeral home can get their bite before any (if any) leftover monies go on to the family. Funerals, by the way, are expensive. If you can possibly afford additional life insurance to cover your burial, please god, get it. This is the worst time in your families' life to get hit with a $5,000 bill just to get rid of your corpse.
Depressingness of the job aside, it wasn't hard, but apparently I wasn't 'fast' enough. And with the name K.T., I was constantly being confused with one of the other girls who worked there, Katy. (yes, the office was entirely female. Wonder why.) So I was told that since KT was 'just a nickname', I'd have to change it and go by Kelly. Which, if anyone knows me at all, they know I will NOT. Do.
4) Technology Liason. Actually, I wasn't bad at this job, but man, it was silly. There were these two people, a computer programmer and a technically writer, who had been married and now were divorced. Their contract project wasn't quite over at the company where they worked, but the two of them refused to speak to each other without ending up saying nasty things to each other and screaming at the tops of their voices in the hallway. So the company moved them to offices on either side of the building and hired me to walk back and forth between their two offices to carry notes and memos and questions. Some people are not mature. Part of my job was also to edit out all the nasty things they said about the other. So "Tell that ass-fucking son of a bitch that this code is as sloppy as his mom's cooking and the damn process doesn't work." became "She'd like you to tighten up the code a little near this section because the string isn't reading correctly, please."
Four movies I could watch over and over:
1) Hunt for Red October
2) Mulan
3) Lilo and Stitch
4) Grosse Point Blanke
Four childhood memories and/or dreams. Guess which is which!
1) When I was little, we lived in these apartments called Rebel Manor apartments (don't you love the south) and I had a babysitter for a while named Jeannie. One day after she put me down for a nap, she kept fussing at me for talking to my stuffed animals instead of sleeping, or humming instead of sleeping, or just breathing instead of sleeping. After a whle, I figured out that she was in my parent's bedroom, and I didn't think she was supposed to be in there. I wondered why she was being so weird about my nap, since my mother never insisted I sleep, just stay in my crib for an hour or so...
Later - much, much later - I found out that my mother had always suspected her of stealing a few things out of my mom's jewelry box. Guess that was what she was up to...
2) I was about three. My parents were up at my dad's brother's house and they were all talking and smoking outside, leaning around my parent's car. My uncle, unseen, picked me up and stood me on the hood of the car, then said, "Cynda, is she supposed to be up there?" and laughed his ass off while I got a spanking and in trouble. He never did admit that he did that, and I wasn't believed about it until I was older. When I had to opportunity to shock his prissy second wife with the information that he used to go to strip clubs when he was in the Navy and had one time passed out because of a routine that a girl did with a snake (thus earning him the nickname "Snake"), I leaped on the opportunity. I haven't spoken to him since. GOOD.
3) One night, I woke up and there were hundreds of butterflies in my room. Literally crawling on every surface of my room, hundreds on the dresser, on the bed, on my table, all over my dolls. They were yellow. Neat, but sort of creepy at the same time.
4) My mom knew this woman named Big Joe (I think her name was Joanna, and her daughter was also Joanna, so Big Joe and Little Joe) who had a weiner dog that bit me. Apparently. I don't remember being bitten. What I do remember was being told that I was frightened of this dog and therefore becoming frightened of it. Where I hadn't been before.
Some celebrities I worshiped when I was little, and names I wanted instead of Kelly (also, you know, when I was not an adult)
1) Harrison Ford (Han Solo)
2) Mr. Green Jeans (from Captain Kangaroo)
3) Aradice. It's my least favorite relative's middle name, but I still like it.
4) Jessica. That was what my parents had agreed was going to be my name, but my mom changed her mind at the last minute and my dad was at sea at the time, so he didn't get to protest.
Four injuries I have sustained:
You know, it might be easier to list 4 injuries I *haven't* sustained.
1) Skull fracture. At no time, even when getting hit in the head with a croquet mallet, have I actually gotten a cracked skull. This amazes me.
2) Broken hip. The epitome of 'old lady' injuries. I'm sure I'll have one eventually.
3) Gunshot wound. Nope. Been threatened a few times, but no one's ever actually shot me yet. Shot at me, but never actually put a bullet in me. This is, I think, a good thing.
4) ummm. nothing else is coming to mind. I have had various blade-related injuries (hand cutting, leg stabbing). I have broken many, many bones. I have been struck by an automobile. I have sustained numerous concussions. I have had cracked ribs. I have nearly drowned and been resuscitated. I have been punched. I have fallen out of trees, down stairs, and off roofs. I have caught my hand between a broken metal doorway and a doorframe, getting a puncture wound in my palm and having internal bleeding into the heel of my hand. I have been trampled by a horse. Yeah, it's a wonder I'm still alive, I know.
Four celebrities I have bothered:
1) Erin Gray. This is the big one, really. When I met Gil Gerrard at a convention several years ago, I turned into a complete and utter fan-girl. Absolutely every bit of sense I had dribbled right out of my mouth, down my chin and I babbled incoherently at my dream guy. In the process, I completely and utterly failed to notice that Erin Gray was sitting right beside him. This amused my husband and annoyed Erin Gray. Even now, I don't remember seeing her. And yes, Gil Gerrard can still give me whiplash. I'll be on the computer doing whatever and Kevin turns on Buck Rodgers on sc-fi and SNAP, I'm staring at the screen like an idiot.
2) Walter Koenig. For daring to take his picture. At a SCI FI convention. I don't mind bothering him. He's an asshole. Somewhere along the line, he let his 'fame' become bigger than his fans. What a snot. I prefer people like George Takei, who adores his fans, or James Doohan, who once pinched my ass at a party. Or Billy Mumy, who has this eerie sixth sense and knows when a camera is pointed in his direction so that he can look up, smile, and then go back to whatever he was doing.
3) Margaret Weis. I cornered her in the con suite at a convention years ago to ask her whether or not Zhora had slept with Ibn Jahd or not. It was an argument some friends of mine and I had had for years. "He did not." She said. "I would have." I replied. Very, very quietly, as I was leaving the room, she said "So would I."
4) Tiffany. Well, I can't take total credit for this, but when she was performing at King's Dominion (opening for New Kids on the Block) I assisted in the booing her offstage. I would have liked to Boo New Kids off as well, but I was outnumbered on that. (I didn't pay for tickets, I was working. Shut up.)
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You scored as Postmodernist. Postmodernism is the belief in complete open interpretation. You see the universe as a collection of information with varying ways of putting it together. There is no absolute truth for you; even the most hardened facts are open to interpretation. Meaning relies on context and even the language you use to describe things should be subject to analysis.
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