If I were a movie director I would more likely hire someone who has worked in retail than a professional actor. I’m not sure how many people notice, the amount of acting we have to do, and unlike television we cannot redo a scene if we mess up. As a retail sales person one basically has to remain happy, bubbly and helpful for a good 8 hours of the day.

This comes fairly natural when you speak to normal people however, often we have to convey these caring and cheerful emotions when really all we want to do is run screaming in the opposite direction. This happened to me the other day. I was blissfully serving a customer when into my store walked the scariest creature known to man kind, yes you all know who I am referring to, it is the creepy grandpa.

Creepy grandpas are the worst, when it comes to creepy people; creepy grandpas are without a doubt the top of the worst.

Unfortunately I was the only person on the floor so it was my duty to smile politely and offer him my assistance. At first I thought I had over reacted, maybe this was a sweet old man… but no matter what the saying is, do judge a book by it’s cover because with creepy people, your first impressions are probably correct. He asked to try on something and I happily obliged with bringing him his choices. He then asked me whether black or brown would be a better suit and I replied with black, as it goes with everything and is always safe. This is when his inner creepiness really came out. “What fashion school did you go to?” he asked ironically while wiggling his eyebrows up and down. They looked like two fat hairy caterpillars doing some kind of mating dance on his forehead. These caterpillars sprung into action every time he asked a question. At this point my acting skills started to fail and I stumbled and mumbled my way through the rest of the sales process. I was thoroughly creeped out by this man and his sexually active caterpillars.

As he left the store I got to thinking: Do creepy people know they are creepy? I did meet a very nice man once on my travels and he told me a story about how he once sat at a lake, but-naked playing the flute. A peculiar sight to come across for any bush walker I’m sure, especially when the naked man turns to the intruding walkers saying, “Shhhhhhhh, don’t disturb the frog!” Creepy: check! However a rather nice man, maybe a little obsessed with the peace of mind of amphibians but a nice enough human being.

Is the frog-man a one off, an exception to the rule? Or are creepy people…well just plain creepy?


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I’m sitting in one of my lectures, however you wouldn’t know from reading my notes. My notes look more like Doodle101.

As I look at my professor, waving his arms around like a windmill, trying to arouse our attention, I realize I have absolutely no clue what he is saying. It’s not until he asked the class a question (this I only noticed because the tone of his voice seemed to go higher at the end) that my brain switched on. Despite this I still had no possible clue as to what the question was. Luckily I’m not the only one. Everyone looks as if they have just woken up, blinking, startled. No one answers.

Alas, my professor does not give up his enthusiasm, he answers his own question and the entire class sinks back into their seats.

He really could be talking about anything and we would all sit their nodding in agreement, wearing glasses with painted on eyes. It’s not until he raises his voice at the end of a sentence that the class jumps up like meerkats, as if they had suddenly been electrocuted.

I know that even when we don’t pay attention we take things in subconsciously, a guy called Bob told me that on a hypnosis CD. The CD was meant to help me fall asleep but his monotone voice telling me “to relax more and more with each breath I take” just agitated me more.

I hence justify not listening, by believing my subconscious will know everything and that hopefully when it comes to exam times my subconscious will flop out of my brain and into my answers. If it doesn’t, I’m blaming Bob.

It takes the whole class a while to register that the lecture is over and as we do we all begin to stir and stretch. I look over at my friend who appears to be drooling onto the armrest. My first thought is to wake her, but then I remember her telling me once that she sleep talks rather loudly and often about quite embarrassing subjects; try fitting orgasmic, submarine, mobile phone and feathers into the same sentence and you’ll know what her last sleep conversation was about. I decide to leave her there. At least the next class will have a more interesting time than me.

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It appears that connections are everything, whether it is how many friends you have on facebook or how many people you follow on twitter. I have come to the conclusion that to successfully be independent, you need to be well connected.

However I’m not really a social butterfly, my friend K is. She knows absolutely everyone, if you have even met anyone; I’ll bet you ten dollars she has met him or her first. Actually scratch that, I don’t have ten dollars.

This thought first occurred to me when my friend “J” messaged me about putting a job application in at a local club. Apparently the manager went to our old high school and if I mentioned this, he would probably give me an interview.

A similar thing happened with my friend “M,” who is now the Manager of a shoe store, you can imagine my delight when he offered his help. Knowing, “M” meant that I was immediately given an interview at a store at a different location. All I had to do was profoundly and tediously flirt with him, which was a small price to pay considering it is “M” and my preferred method of communication anyway.

After having tried on 7 different pairs of shoes, I had finally decided on the perfect, “look at me, I am well presented, professional, but still fashion forward enough to work here” outfit I was ready to take one the world, one shoe store at a time.

My interview went as most interviews do. The manager asked me questions and I gave the 5 star answers:

Mangager: So why do you want to work at ____?

B: I love working with customers and I have always found the service here amazing and I would really love to be part of such an amazing customer service team.

B’s head: Shoes, Shoes, Shoes. I get discounts on shoes.

As the interview progressed I started to pull out my favourite lines:

“I always try to go above and beyond to ensure that a customer’s shopping experience is a positive one. I always get a sense of satisfaction knowing that I have served a customer well and to the best of my abilities. I love working in retail. It’s my passion.”

A film director would have hired me immediately. Not to say that everything I said isn’t completely and utterly true. It’s just ever so slightly altered.

Wish me luck.

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The end of Stalking

I was meant to be writing a paper for Uni, unfortunately I am the champion of procrastination. If there were a subject on it, I could most definitely teach it. I logged onto Facebook, hoping for a good distraction; you never know someone could be “no longer listed as being in a relationship,” or they may just be utterly stupid:

However today I had no such luck, the bastards were all happy. So I decided to do some Facebook stalking. I’ve always wondered about stalking. I have committed such felony once, when I saw a band play and decided I absolutely must snag myself the guitarist or my life as I know it would be over. For the whole night my friend K and I followed them around, she had her eyes set on the lead singer. We did eventually get what we came for and I believe my stalking experience to have been a good one.

I always wondered what stalkers thought of Facebook, for one now everyone has become a stalker via Facebook, so the need for stalkers would definitely be at an all time low. Facebook has probably also taken much of the fun out of stalking, because honestly there is not much work left to do. People freely post every fraction of their lives on Facebook so there is no need to dig up any dirt on them.

They can’t even hang out front of people’s houses anymore taking photos as Facebookers willingly take pervey photos of themselves.

I feel a bit sorry for them after all their occupation has become extinct, a bit like my own.

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The Case of the One-Day Depression

So today I have decided to be depressed. It appears to be the most convenient option. I have assignments due and I should probably get round to printing out more resumes. But it’s okay; I’m depressed today so it provides the perfect justification for not doing any job (not that I have one) or task that might be on my to-do list.

I’m not sure how most people deal with the blues but this is generally what I do:

I toss my boots to one side and sit down on my big beautiful bed and wrap myself in its protective covers. I then turn on the television and begin to flick through the channels hoping something will tickle my fancy. Generally it doesn’t. I did catch Year in the life of J.K. Rowling the other day but other than that TV seems like an absolute insanity. I do have my guilty pleasures like everyone; I will always smile at; Knock, Knock, Penny? Knock, Knock, Penny? And I think a book should be written entitled The world according to Joey. But other than that if I wanted to watch “real life” people living together in a house I would sit on my roof with a telescope spying on my neighbours, but that would be considered creepy, maybe I could even lock all the doors and throw in a piece of cheese every other day, but I guess someone already thought of that when they pitched The Biggest Loser.

I much prefer DVDs; my ultimate depression series is One Tree Hill, it automatically makes me feel better because their lives are always much more in ruins than my own. I mean who am I to complain, at least a dog did not run away with my heart, when that heart transplant was the only thing that could have kept me alive. However when the episode ends I start to feel a little selfish, here I am perfectly fine, besides having the case of the convenient one-day depression when there are people out there in desperate need. Maybe I can set up a fund for the safer transfer of organs, but then it occurs to me that in real life, hearts are probably not transported in a Styrofoam boxes and carried into the hospital where dogs wait with their mouths open, ready to catch whatever falls out when the currier trips.

I then completely ignore how horrid I should feel about my egocentricity. For the rest of the day I remain in bed, I really refuse to move, expect if it means reaching for the remote to press the “Next episode button” or taking the long stertorous walk to the fridge, past the treadmill, past the workout bike and right into the pantry however there is nothing in there that would take me less than 2 minutes to prepare so I walk back to my bed.

As it turns out my one-day depression was a huge hit, I did absolutely nothing productive and ate my weight in food.

On the bright side I can now apply for The Biggest Loser, win a million dollars and set up TOTYNYD (Transporting Organs To You and Not Your Dog).


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My Room

Today I decided that my room needs a good cleaning. I decide this every other month when I realise the carpet it no longer visible. Up until that point I quite enjoy living in my organized chaos, although I must hop cautiously from one free spot to another, I think it is improving my balance and gives my room a similar vibe to that of an obstacle course.

It brings back childhood memories of playing Don’t Step On The Floor, but now it is reversed, Try To Step On The Floor.

My mother is not really a fan of this game, I believe it is simply because she is too grown up. I’m not sure she really understands the rules. Whenever she enters she viciously shoves all the things to one side and her face begins to expand and shape into an unrecognisable object. When I try to tell her about her face being a side effect of touching the untouchable her face seems to reach 5 different shades of purple. It is rather impressive and difficult to replicate even by the most talented of artists.

However on this particular day I decide to destroy my obstacle course, it is a bit traumatic, as I have now found the best way to reach the bed, desk and bathroom from my door. I have grown rather accustomed to the big step, little step to the left, big jump straight ahead, shimmy across on a diagonal and then pounce until you fall onto the mattress. It is the first time The Time Warp has been put to good use. Once it is destroyed I will have to come up with an entirely new routine.

But alas all good things must come to an end.

I begin to tidy, I put the clothes away, the random pieces of paper scattered at various corners in the room, the pile of library books, which I had used as hurdles were also put away in my bookshelf. It took my all morning and some of the afternoon.

Once I had finished I sadly looked at my now tidy room, I felt my childhood vision vanishing before my very eyes.

But fortunately for me (and unfortunately for my mum) I refuse to grow up and start throwing various clothes onto the floor. I hop from one to the other, making a path towards the door, careful not to step onto the carpet. For some reason I have a peculiar sense of déjà vu and remember how my room got to that state in the first place.


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I’ve been leaving little extracts from the bible around the house on little pieces of paper, not that I am particularly religious; to be honest the more I read the bible the more I find it having little relevance to me personally but that is besides the point.

These extracts are for a specific purpose: I’m trying to convert my sister to nunism. It’s not really going so well at the moment especially with my mum yelling; “B, if I see one more of these notes stuck to the wall, you are moving out.”

But she can’t seem to understand the large scheme I am trying to pull here.

My idea first hit me after I found out that a boy in my sister’s year had impregnated a 14 year old.

I don’t know what 14 year olds are doing these days but pregnancy is not really what I had my eye on back then. All I really remember of my years as a 14 year old was that I thought I was the alpha-dog of all alpha-dogs. I was friends with this girl, L, admittedly was much cooler than me. She was generally dressed entirely in black and listened to bands I pretended to know. This proved to be rather easy as the only words understandable were “AHHHHHHHHH” or “OHHHHHH” or other words beginning with a vowel and ending in a long screech. The tones of all the songs were angry so when she asked me if I had heard the latest Dying Fetus or Slipknot album I could reply with: “Oh yeah, it’s angry.”

After a while I got sick of being angry and went back to listening to the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Queen and Nirvana. This proved to give me more popularity points with L. After all, “I wasn’t one of those pretentious posers who just to pretend to like this stuff because it is now cool.” If only she knew. But this comment did severely boost my mindset as an alpha-dog. Neither of us were particularly interested in boys at the time because, “we were living for the music.” So the idea of pregnancy never really crossed my mind.

But as my sister is not in her room listening to scary screech music she must be getting pregnant. I could not let this happen. So at first I thought my best method of attack would be to imprison her. I tried barricading her door, but dad was suspicious when he saw me carrying a plank of wood and a toolbox upstairs, so I decided on a different option. I started calling her at various points of the day to make sure she was angry, but this only increased my phone bill and made my sister refuse to answer the phone when I called. I have read the boy who cries wolf and decided I better stop calling.

So now instead of going Big-Brother on her I have decided to let her deal with her problems on her own, but merely guiding her into the path of rigorousness i.e. a convent even if that means I will have to move out and live in a box on the street. But I found that brainwashing is not as easy as it looks, I’m not sure if my bible extracts are doing much to prompt her or what the effect of watching The Sound of Music three times in one week had on her influential mind. I guess only time will tell.

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