fired

Ugh. I just got fired from my job at Hallmark. Ok, let me explain.

My friend Rose was tired of me never making any time for her or her family, but with school and working full time at the flower shop, who had the time? So, she hooked me up with a seasonal part time evening job at Hallmark, which actually coincided with my plan to save up so I could visit Europe next summer. It was all going fine. Or at least, I thought it was. I was the first person in over seven years to correctly find all the cards in my training test and I sold six Precious Moments figurines to a customer on my first day. I thought I was doing pretty damn good.

But then on Sunday, my training manager called me to the back room and told me she had been observing me.

CORALEE: David…I’ve been watching you…and…I don’t think it’s going to work out between you and Hallmark.
ME: What do you mean?
CORALEE: You don’t seem that motivated. It’s like you don’t want to be here.
ME: Uh…no. I do want to be here. I like it here. It’s…
CORALEE: You’re heart doesn’t seem in it. You don’t approach the customers or talk to them…
ME: Are you kidding me? I’m always talking to customers. That’s how I sell them stuff.
CORALEE: You just don’t seem passionate about working here…
ME: Seriously? It’s selling cards. You really cant get too passionate about selling cards. I’m sorry I don’t have an orgasm every time I make a sale, but I think I do pretty good.
CORALEE: Mm-hmm. Well, it's not just me...Wendy the manager, has also observed you and she feels the same way. She says you have an attitude problem, something I really don’t agree with, but…
ME: But I’ve never worked with Wendy! How can she say that? I don’t have an attitude problem. I come in and do my work and I always make sure I have a smile on my face. I never complain that I always get stuck with the vacuum duties, I always offer to take out the trash…and I’m the best damn gift wrapper you have!
CORALEE: Well, there was that incident last week when a girl came in and asked us if she was interrupting you and I. She was David. I was in the middle of training you and you just completely ignore me to help her. That hurt.
ME: But she was a customer! I thought we were supposed to treat our customers as if they were guests in our home!
CORALEE: Yeah…I’m sorry David. We’ve just decided you and Hallmark are not going to work out. You’re a nice, sweet, young man and you’re a hard worker, but…I’m sorry.

And then she gave me a hug. A total Judas Iscariot hug. I knew my performance at Hallmark was impeccable, no matter what Coralee said. Maybe I was being let go because I was the only guy working there. I mean, it made sense. There were employees there who used their cell phones to text while out on the floor and some of them didn’t even know the location of certain cards, but yet I was the one being let go? I wanted to knock the Precious Moments out of Coralee and say, “How’s that for an attitude adjustment?” but I knew I had to show restraint. After all, I had shown restraint earlier last week.

There’s a networking business organization my boss Alice works with and when she found out they needed someone to write their monthly online newsletter, she recommended me. At first, I really liked doing it. I really liked attending the meetings and having total control of writing a newsletter. But then it got straining. And then it got draining. William, the founder of the networking business organization turned out to be a neurotic man who never slept and had a severe obsessive compulsive disorder. He would call at 11 or 12 at night, asking me to add an article in the newsletter or to ask me if I had noticed the changes he made. It got to the point where he would get upset with me if the newsletter wasn’t done within a week. I knew I had to quit. Our personalities just clashed and I just couldn’t put up with his neurosis any longer.

I was in the middle of writing my resignation letter ,with the help of Alice, when my phone rang. It was Aleah, a former sales director at a local radio station and a member of the networking business organization, who had called to tell me, my services were no longer needed for the online newsletter. William, told Aleah to tell me the networking business organization was “going in a different way.” They wanted an actual member to be in charge of the newsletter to “devote more time” to it. Ugh. “Devote more time,” my ass. I devoted plenty of time to it and I even put up with William’s insanity for five months! I couldn’t believe I was fired, before I could quit. So unfair.

But as luck would have it, there was a silver lining on a window that was just opening up. Aleah had recently left her position at the radio to work for 520 Living, a new lifestyle magazine that was launching early next year and she asked me if I would be interested in writing reviews for the magazine about all the trendy hotspots around town! I would be getting paid to have fun! I, of course, had to submit a sample review of the last nightclub I attended, but as of this morning...I have the job!

And as Coralee waved goodbye to me, I knew there was a silver lining somewhere in all of this. I just wish I knew where.

send in the killer clowns

The average college student will attend roughly fifteen hundred parties over the course of their college career. I’ve attended about half. All parties are generally the same, and usually what separates the “good parties” from the “bad parties” is how drunk you are. You’ll notice the best parties will not be the ones you arrive at in the beginning of the night, but rather the ones you stumble into at the end. Each party usually consists of one mix iPod shuffle, blasting the hottest hip-hop and R&B music, one keg of beer, one table of hard alcohol and chasers and one roomful of guys and girls you’ll recognize from class, drinking as much as their little red Solo Cups can hold.

Now, you may get the idea to hold a party at your place, which in itself is a very foolish and stupid idea. Unless you have the crazy notion to run around worrying that nobody spills anything, breaks anything, tears anything, or steals anything and then trying to convince the cops that everyone is actually watching a movie and eating pizza. Yeah. It’s much better to keep the party-throwing to losers who enjoy sacrificing everything they hold so dear to their hearts, and keep the party going, spilling, breaking, tearing, and stealing to yourself. So, when my friend Maria’s new boyfriend Manny invited me to a party he was throwing for Maria’s 21st birthday, earlier this week, I wondered just what kind of guy he was.

Maria had met Manny at the drugstore where she worked. They instantly clicked together when their training manager tried to describe the “Ethnic aisle” to them without sounding racist. As fate would have it, Maria and Manny had a lot of things in common, especially in acquaintances, because a lot of Manny‘s friends were in the same engineering club that Maria‘s ex-boyfriend used to attend. Maria couldn’t stop talking about Manny and I couldn’t wait to see the guy who had made my friend so happy. But now…after meeting him? I’m not so sure I ever wanna see Manny ever again.

It was a Monday night, which struck me as odd to hold a 21 year old party, but it so happens, that’s the day Maria’s birthday fell under this year. Manny lived in a neighborhood where the streets were named after people, places, and things associated with King Arthur, so at first glance, I thought surely the people who lived on magical streets would be magical themselves. But Manny was anything but magical. He was creepy.

Walking into the house, everywhere you looked, there were clowns! On the shelves, the walls, everywhere! It made me wonder who their decorator was? The Barnum & Bailey Brothers? I wasn’t really freaked, since clowns have never really bothered me, but just the fact that they were a factor in the decorating design was a little odd. I tried to look beyond the clowns and tried to feign interest in a framed print. Guess I wouldn’t be stealing anything. According to Manny, the picture was done by John Wayne. Who knew that the infamous cowboy actor painted too? But I think the bigger question is…why?

I went to the kitchen to get a drink and was greeted with even more horrifying decor. There were magnetic strips all along the three walls in the kitchen and hanging from the magnetic strips were knives - carving, pairing, filets, and cleavers, hanging like little, tiny swords ready to be used by little, tiny pirates. Well, actually, they were used to cut the red velvet birthday cake, Manny made for Maria. Yes…red velvet cake. Who makes red velvet for a birthday? Confetti, I understand, but red velvet? The party got even weirder when one of Manny’s friends asked him where is folks were and all Manny said was, “They’re not here.” I thought that meant they had moved on, you know, to the other side, but when his friend pushed for further details and Manny said, “They’re gone somewhere,” I wondered if his parents were maybe, forced to the other side.

Something was up and so I called one of the best investigators I knew. My friend Madelaine. Madelaine had a reputation for being able to locate anyone in the greater Tucson area and find out at least three secrets from their past. I knew she was a force to be reckoned with, which is why I asked her to research Manny. She, of course, thought I was blowing the weird mannerisms of Manny’s way overboard. So I had to do my own research. Google.com helped me learn that John Wayne never painted sad clowns. But John Wayne Gacy, AKA The Killer Clown did. Yeah. How convenient of Manny to leave off the name “Gacy,” when talking about the art in his home. That, plus the collection of kitchen knives and red velvet cake, which was probably made by human blood. And that weird thing he said about his parents about being “gone”? Who says things like that?!

I didn’t know what to do. I mean, really, how do you tell someone that their fellow co-worker, classmate and lover, loves a psycho killer clown? I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that it’s the friend who finds out who the real killer is that gets killed off first. And speaking of horror movies, I just got a text from Maria who just now asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with her and Manny. He wants to see Halloween…for the fifth time! I’ve already seen it, so I know it’s an OK-movie, but five times?! Come on! Am I the only one who sees the signs?!

it's a mad, mad, mad, mad friendship

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t exactly the end of an era, because the other week, I saw Colette. I know. I guess living an entire city away, just isn’t far enough for us to actually say goodbye. I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it is what it is. And it’s not like it’s my fault that I saw her again. I was invited. Colette’s mom called me up, one fine morning, and asked if I wanted to drive up with her and Monette, Colette’s younger sister, to see Colette. I didn’t wanna say, “No,” because I thought that would be considered rude, so I went along for the ride. Along with about half of Tucson. Who knew Colette was missed by so many?

After we got to Phoenix and caught up with each other, we found ourselves just sitting around, in Colette’s new apartment, wondering what to do next. It was weird. I mean, I know the point of the visit was to visit with Colette, but how much could a person miss another person after only being away for a week? That’s when I suggested we go to a party. After all, it was the weekend before school, so surely there were a few kegs floating around the city, just waiting to be pumped. An hour later, we were at the party of Colette’s fellow classmates. That’s when we met Jason.

Jason was from our side of the tracks, meaning he came up from Tucson too. He had just moved to Tucson at the beginning of the summer and was still learning his way around Arizona. He wasn’t really all that interesting, I’ll admit, but I think he was just nervous being in another new city and not really knowing anyone. I was just about to leave to get my second cup of Jungle Juice when Jason said something that made my ears perked.

Every year, towards the end of the summer, 93.7 KRQ, a local radio station in town, holds a contest where the winner wins a $10,000 shopping spree at the mall. Jason was that winner. He bought an iPhone, DVD’s, designer sunglasses, a whole ton of stuff. He even got $2,000 more in gift cards to be spent at random apparel shops! Ugh…$12,000 given to someone who wasn’t even born and raised here! And the worst part of it all? Jason cant shop at the mall because none of the clothes fit him. More proof that God does have a cruel sense of humor.

So here was a guy with an extra $2000 and he couldn’t spend it. I swear, at that moment in time, I had dollar signs flashing in my eyes, like the screen of a coin slot machine in Las Vegas. I wanted that $2000 shopping spree. After all, if Jason couldn’t spend the money, then why couldn’t I? I mean, wasn’t I the one who wanted to go out to a party? Wasn’t I the one who had initiated conversation with Justin?

I made sure to get Jason’s phone number before I left the party and Phoenix. I knew I had to take advantage of the fact that I had a home advantage above all those Phoenixians at the party who may have overheard Jason tell me that he had $2000 laying around in gift cards. For the next week and a half, I had a new friend. I invited Jason to the movies, to a party, to everywhere. Some of my friends, the ones who weren’t at the party, couldn’t understand why I was “courting him”, but they didn’t understand that there was $2,000 here at stake. And I was gonna try and do whatever it took to get my hands on those gift cards. Apparently, everyone that went to the party had the same goal in mind.

It seemed I wasn’t the only one who heard Jason’s story that night. I found out Colette was just as textually active as I was. She even sent Jason a “Welcome to Arizona” gift basket. It was sneaky and vindictive and the worst part of it all? Jason actually liked it! I’m in competition with an entire group of people who are supposed to be my friends. Why cant they just let me enjoy $2,000 in peace? Which is where you guys, my fellow blogosphere friends, come in hand. I need some ideas on how to outwit and outplay my friends/competition. And don’t worry…I’ll cut you in for a little somethin’-somethin’.

grease is the word

Every few years or so, a movie comes out and 20 - 30 minutes, you realize you are watching an instant classic. Like Grease, for example. It’s got everything you could ask for …underage drinking, teen pregnancy scare, singers who can't act, actors who can't sing, and a plot so corny it should have its own husk. Which is why when I heard that there would be a sing-a-long playing at The Loft, I knew I had to go!

Sadly though, no one wanted to go with me. It’s almost as if they were embarrassed to be seen among fans dressed up like the characters, singing all the songs and dancing the hand jive in the aisles. But lucky for me, there was one friend, whose life motto was, “I may not be able to sing, but I sure can do one helluva ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You!”

Friday night, Hadassah and I made our way to The Loft, with little bottles of alcohol and wine stuffed in our pockets. We weren’t dressed as the characters, since we figured it would be more fun to watch gay men dress up as tough guys in leather jackets and perform synchronized dance moves in the aisles while singing their hearts out to Olivia Newton John's ballad. Instead, it was the lesbians who dressed up, which really wasn’t as fun, since none of them could sing or dance. But it was still fun just seeing the whole overgrown gang on the big screen with little yellow words all along the bottom.

After the movie there was a Q & A with three of the characters from the movie; Edd Byrnes (Vince Fontaine), Annette Charles (Cha-Cha DiGregorio) and Eddie Deezen (Eugene Felnic), which couldn’t have been more awesome. What wasn’t awesome was the fact that time has been totally cruel to Edd Byrnes. And judging by the fact that he was charging $25 for his 1996 biography, which sells on eBay for about $2.99, time obviously hasn’t been kind to his mentality. Time was, however, kind to Eddie, who I swear looks exactly the same and to his costar, Annette. Oh, Annette…

She was actually one of main reasons for going there. Ever since I can remember, I always liked Cha Cha, which isn’t really all that shocking since I’ve always adored troubled characters at a very young age. Like Ernie, Miss Piggy, Cruella De Vil. I mean, who didn’t wonder what a coat made out of puppies would feel like? And who doesn’t love the character of Cha Cha, the best dancer at St. Bernadette’s with the worst reputation and her hot tranny looks?

It was such a surreal moment walking up to that stage and that cheap card table and know that I was standing in the presence of cult cinema royalty. And it was even more cooler to know that Cha Cha was now a professor at some college in L.A. teaching communications, which is totally my field of expertise…or at least will be once I finish school. By the end of the night, I got the scarf Cha Cha threw out into the crowd, an autograph, and I got to do the cha cha with Cha Cha. I’d show pictures, but my “Hopelessly Devoted” friend was hopelessly passed out on one of the theater’s red velvet seats. And even though I didn’t get to ride that infamous Grease Lightening into that malt shop in the sky, it was still one heck of a womp bop a looma, a womp bam boom night.