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January 26, 2011 / Brittany Hendrick

Every day is a roller skating jam

Whoops! It’s been a few months since a Snarky update. That’s because there hasn’t been much going on. What’s to know. The two-year mark of my unemployment passed last week. Yesterday was like the day before it, and tomorrow will be like today. All of my weekends are what you mortals every so often excitedly refer to as a “three-day weekend.”

 

Actually, I have been extremely busy: half-working, interviewing (!!!), housecleaning, and socializing (a healthy social life is what has kept me sane and connected). I’ll be donating my eggs to The Hatchery for a fifth and final time– AND I’m in a position to SAVE the money! *dies* Nice start toward a down-payment on a house. If only I had a job…

But who wants to hear the narcissistic  self-aggrandizing  boring details of my life. Daily public “diaRY-a” ain’t exactly my bag, obviously. That’s because I’m too interesting even for the internet. *snort*

Did your computer screen just shake? No, that was not my uniquely exotic sui generisity causing the virtual imposters of Interestingness to crumble into rubbles of irrelevancy; that was me rolling my eyes at people who are full of shit over themselves and broadly relay it in plain language, in an atonal voice, in hopes that the audience somehow finds their perfunctory activities intriguing.

Why do people do that? It’s like a beakerful of Ms. Othmar being thrown into my eyes. Except, instead of screaming in pain, I simply fall asleep. Give us a STORY, a THEME, a HOOK.

\rant

I try my best to write entertainingly about the big things that are worthy of everyone’s time, such as making fun of myself… and possibly making fun of you, too. Important affairs. Mostly, what I can make humorous, even if it is a banal topic. However, sometimes I may have to get pedantic on yo’ ass. It happens.

Thing is, there hasn’t been time for me to contemplate Teh Funny (not a typo, but even if it were, it’d stay). Maybe because nothing funny has occurred lately… which can’t possibly be true. Maybe I haven’t slowed down enough to pay attention to people and situations, digest them, and then puke up Teh Funny. Whatever the case, I’d better WTFU!!!1!! Because I’ve enrolled in a sketch comedy writing class starting in February.

This is good for two reasons. 1) Once the writing aspect is covered, I’d like to venture on to the acting part of sketch comedy; 2) It’ll be an environment that invites political incorrectness for the sake of comedy, and no one will be a crybaby over it. Well, except the Catholics. They have a problem with everything. Oh, and the handicapped… always something… And race minorities… no surprise there. And women, too. Yeah, women especially. What a bunch of humorless whiners. Man, I hope I don’t have to sit next to one in class.

Yet, there is a point of concern. I’m not worried about my writing or humor ability– I am worried about not having material! Where does most material come from? The workplace.

I HAVEN’T WORKED IN TWO YEARS!

Kind of hard to muster substance if I haven’t been hanging around a bunch of maladroit people (general public included) whose personality flaws quirks flaws are the beacon of my day.

Of course, my Retail Years is a repository of fodder, rife with overachievers, yes-men, dumbasses, thieves and sluts. What, you didn’t think that freight elevator was only for deliveries between the first and second floors, did you?

Retail industry– the setting in itself– isn’t humorous. But it churns out the finest cast of clowns. Oh, how I miss the trashy country girl who proudly announced to me she’d wear her “pleathers” the next workday. Or the girl who asked me if 50% off meant half off. Or the mystery man who taped a hand-scrawled sign that read “broke ass” onto a vacuum cleaner. Ahhh, where are these good people today.

They’re still out there. Same bullshit, different bodies. Incidentally, I HAVE been half-working in a half-retail setting lately. In November, I picked up some promotions jobs through an event marketing company. It’s a great way to make a large amount of money in a short amount of time. The problem is that it’s temporary contract work. Another problem is that, peerwise, it’s just like retail.

It had been six years since I wanted to throw myself down a freight elevator shaft because of some half-wit co-worker with social skills equalling that of the entire “12 and under” contingent at an ADHD convention. Yeah. This person exists.

But this post isn’t about that crazy creep, so I won’t go into details (Hello, Generation Y? This is Generation X asking: What the FUCK?!) The point is this anyway: with a steady stream of promo jobs, I’d have a puppy mill of material for sketch comedy, should I decide to immortalize any unsavory characters I may encounter.

Alas, this is the slow time of year for promo events. The project that re-ignited those old feelings of self-death-by-elevator-shaft just wrapped up a couple weeks ago. And so–  unless one of the four job opps I have pending in some form or another results in me anticipating three-day weekends–  dum-dee-dum dee-dum. Trying… to find… Teh Funny…

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