mostly probably

I thought it appropriate to do another dedicatory post. This time, the post will be dedicated to my very nearest and dearest friend I have discovered whilst living in the ghetto. I bring you… Gil.

When I first moved into this ward, I made it a personal goal to be more outgoing and get to know people. I haven’t done that. But my first Sunday I went to ward prayer and met Gil. And my life has never been quite so… funny. Gil knows what it means to be a good friend. We went to the temple together, and he dedicated my apartment, and brought me dinner. He has just about the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I know and he is exceptionally honest.

I love Gillis. He marches to the beat of his own drum and you know what? I love Gil’s drum. He once told me that people like him because he is a commodity (one of several of my favorite quotes a la Gillis), a rare and unique gift that people only come to appreciate even more with time. He also told me at a fireside that my breath stunk, and I really wanted to be angry about it. I laugh thinking about that now because nobody on earth is quite as honest and straight-up as Gillis.

Gil is unabashedly himself and I have the videos from last night’s dance party to prove it. I think that probably the very best quality a person can have is the ability to know who they are and be true to it. Gillis doesn’t try to be someone he’s not. He’s just him and being around Gil is like the equivalent of being tickle-tortured while eating your weight in corndogs. It’s awesome and hilarious.

And he writes a killer zombie apocalypse play. Coming to theaters near you. I love you, Gil!

(I hope that this isn’t the one time in your life you decide to be embarrassed by something. Probably earlier today when I crashed your class would be better for that.)

Today in between jobs I was talking to my parents on the phone. Dad mentioned that I need to write something blogworthy in my blog. Apparently he thinks that things in my life are blogworthy. Anything in my life. He is mistaken. But there has been some confusion as to what the heck I’m doing with my life these days. People I have known for years and years regularly ask me where I’m working and what I’m doing, and since my dad suggested that I write about the awesome things that happen to me while I’m working, and since I always do everything my dad tells me to, I will do it.

I am a full-time sellout. I graduated with a degree in technical writing. Whatever. I’m a receptionist. Let’s face it. I answer phones and I am worshipped (although not compensated) for my incredible skills at creating merge documents and figuring out little shortcuts on copy machines. Yup, my life is pretty much amazing for eight hours straight. I was telling Gillis yesterday that I am a lot more smart and talented than my day job allows me to be. This results in me taking on extra part-time jobs I do from home that I have no time to do.

At my monthly review today, my boss brought this up and said almost the exact same thing. “I don’t think you’ll disagree with me when I say you’re much too smart and talented to be a receptionist.” It made me feel good. So the plan is to stick with this for another month or two until we add another attorney to the firm and then I’ll move up. To do what? No one knows. But I won’t have to say, “Good morning! This is Brittany! How may I help you?” with a mouthful of M&M’s anymore. Awkward.

I also work from home. This is the one that surprises people, although I have been doing it for almost two years. I do transcription for a reality TV production company. I won’t say which shows, but I will say that I do know the winners of at least five hit reality TV shows currently airing. It makes me feel like the god of reality TV. I work about half the hours and make about as much as I do at my full-time job. So no matter how much I hate it and working with snobbish L.A. types, I stick with it. Because now I don’t have to watch TV. I am TV! Muhaha, etc. So the next time you’re watching some random reality TV show, turn on the closed captioning and think of me. I typed them words, yo. Don’t be ashamed to shed a tear in my honor.

I also do a little (very little now since I can only charge her exactly 42% less than what I charge reality TV client) for another transcription client. It’s usually telephone interviews, and recently I have been transcribing interviews between a technical writer and clients she is writing for. I don’t like to do these because then it reminds me that I should be the one doing the interview instead of the minion in a basement apartment transcribing it. Boohoo. Sad life. But it’s alright and when I need to fill my life with something other than potatoes or movie going, I can do that.

Then there is the pride and joy of my life. I edit. Not sure a degree in technical writing is required to have this job, but I like to think it is. I’m not even positive what I’m editing, but it’s high school lesson plans for English classes. And it’s awesome. I don’t have to read because by the time I’m done editing one, I know pretty much everything about the whole book. It drives me a little batty because I feel like I have to buy every book I do edits for. I just got done with See How They Run by James Patterson and am working on Pacific Vortex! Not sure how I feel about it. But I do that on my lunch break and after work. So in case you wondered when I have time for these things… I really don’t.

Then today I started volunteering at the ICU in the hospital. I think it will be good. The nurses are confused because generally volunteers are either nursing school attendees or people wanting to get their foot in the door for med school. They laughed when I told them it’s just because I feel like the rest of my life is sucking the soul out of me. That’s really how I feel. I literally breathed a great big sigh of relief when I saw a husband sitting at his wife’s bedside combing her hair and realized that I was getting a little choked up. I can still be touched by regular human emotions! I was honestly incredibly worried about that. It’s always a good moment in a person’s life when they realize they can still be touched by displays of old people love in the ICU at the hospital. Or maybe I just had something in my eye. Also likely.

So I worked a solid 15 hours today. (I woke up early so I could get some of my reality TV transcription done, worked through lunch, eight hours at the law office, and four hours at the hospital.) It feels kind of good. I think I’m making up for the three months of unemployment I just went through. Combined with the year of unemployment I went through before that. (I do miss the stay at home wives club, Michelle!)

Please tell me if I’m crazy, but I am seriously considering allowing the LSAT to be part of my future in 2009. I hear they give you free chocolate when you pass the bar.

I feel sick. I went to a movie and had a drink, candy, and popcorn. What’s wrong with me? This after a day of eating a ton of chocolate at work. I feel like my body is all fulled up of sugar and I will die soon. I can’t wash my hair because I’m out of shampoo. I can’t use my bathroom because I’m out of TP. I feel homeless and ill-equipped for a regular person’s life. Why do I choose to go to movies when I should be fulfilling my need for ordinary life’s basic needs?

But I really wanted to write today because once again it was suggested to me that I write a book about the ridiculous things that happen to me while I attempt to maneuver through the messed up world of dating. Seriously, I hear this all the time and it’s weird. But I’m glad other people think it’s funny that I keep getting pooped on by dating. I guess it kind of is. I am a pretty good friend and get super attached to people that I can depend on… so the people that I should be dating, that the people everyone thinks I am dating… are unfortunately just friends.

My bishop asked me when I talked to him (during the conversation that he told me I have to date) whether Friend #1 and I are dating. We date but mostly we just like… snuggle and have fun giggly webcam conversation and stuff. It’s not going anywhere and really never ever will. That’s what I like about it. That’s what I like about Friends #2 and #3 too. I told bishop this and he said maybe I should “explore that opportunity.” So Friend #1 and I will probably go and hang out in Wendover and see if that sparks anything. I’ve known him for almost ten years but magical things happen in Nevada. Right?

Friend #2 is probably the most aggravating and awesome. Everyone thinks we’re dating and we have acknowledged that the fact that everyone thinks we’re dating is really only helpful to us as far as dating other people. Because like Friend #3 will demonstrate, everyone wants to date someone who they think is dating someone else. Weird how that works. But even more weird is how open we are about the whole “not ever going to date each other” thing. People ask us when we’re out and about, “So why aren’t you guys dating?” And we shrug our shoulders or change the subject and start talking about popcorn. That’s how we roll, yo.

I have dated Friend #3 before. It was fun. And it ran its course and he started dating someone else. We “hung out” (again with the antidates–that was so six months ago!) and he told me how great this other thing was going and BAM! Like magic, I thought to myself, “I’d like to date you.” And then I took it one step further and told him, “You know, I’d like to date you.” And despite the fact that saying this to one… no, two… or… three… nope, FOUR(!!!!!!!) people has resulted in me getting pooped on by dating, he didn’t get weirded out. Of course, we have since talked about how dating is the worst, and that we should date, and we would… if dating wasn’t awful. It’s going well.

Then there’s Friend #4. I don’t have any clue what’s going on. Friend #4 is in my ward and I have never seen him outside of church. He is an even geekier (and male) version of me who is even more out of touch with what’s cool. His regular vocabulary is equipped with quite a few jokes that no one under the age of 70 should ever be able to use. And I worship it. It is pretty much my favorite thing in the whole world. I think the reason we get along as well as we do is because we have it in common that we both kind of think that dating is ridiculous and that it is preposterous to think either of us will ever get married. Ever.That, and we have never so much as brought up the possibility of seeing each other in a setting outside of our routine church bantering.

I really love friends. And if I had to pick a favorite one, it would probably be between Friend #2 and Friend #4. Really it’s because Friend #2 gives me corndogs whenever I go over there and Friend #4 gives me candy and chocolate. So it comes down to food versus food. The story of my life.

So I went today to go get my hair re-blondified. The girl who did it said that totally bleaching it (which would be required to return to the stat of blonde I was in previously) would destroy it. So she came up with this idea to lighten my red and bleach some of it.

The result. I heart it. And you should too.

In case you were wondering, this is an appeal for compliments. I will forward them to the girl slash genius who did it.

• Sometimes people lie to me instead of not lying.
• My phone finally officially died.
• iPhones are still expensive.
• My birds are chirping too much today.
• My blood is the same color as chocolate.
• I kept having disturbing thoughts about using my IV as a straw while I was giving blood.
• I seem to be fixated on chocolate the last couple of days.
• Sometimes I talk at work and the phone rings and fun conversations end.
• 40 hours/week at job + 15ish hours from home + 8 hours hospital volunteering = no corndogs time.
• I still haven’t swept my bathroom floor. Sorry Gil.

Today marks the second anniversary of my very first blog entry. Absolutely nothing has changed. I think that should make me sad. It doesn’t. I’m in a good place now. I live in an apartment that I love. I spend my whole life in the ghetto, which I also love. I love Matthew McConaughey.

I watch a ton of movies, I watch no TV, and I have birds. I still don’t know how to swim, I don’t exercise, and I still eat oatmeal regularly just because I feel like I need to do one thing that’s good for me. I eat either pickles, pizza, or cheese at least every day, and I love musicals.

I am at this very second watching Mamma Mia! even though every time I see it I cry. I pretty much cry all the time. My emotions are perpetually on overdrive and it’s pretty annoying to feel everything you’re feeling so intensely all the time, and not be able to hide it. I am obsessed with my blog and think it’s about one of the greatest things ever.

Happy birthday, Blog. I love you.

Sometimes I am so proud of my “didn’t wash my hair this morning and stuck it in pigtails in honor of casual Friday and then took a nap after work and when I woke up my crappy pigtails looked super awesome and I wish that I had thought to sleep on my hair for two hours before going to work hair” that I take pictures of it and post it on my blog. These are some freaking cute pigtails! />

awesome pigtails of cuteness

The following blog is called “The Blog About How A Lot of People’s Lives Suck Right Now and How I Plan to Use That to My Advantage (Etc.)” or to put it more simply, “TBAHALOPLSRNAHIPTUTTMMLMA(E).”

A lot of people’s lives suck right now. Trust me, I know. Not because mine does, because mine is still awesome and will continue to be for the near foreseeable future. I know because I work in a bankruptcy attorney’s office and talk to approximately ten kajillion people per day whose lives really are the worst ever. I do feel bad for these people. I hate my job because I have to listen to a minimum of twenty (quite legitimate) sob stories a day. I love my job though because it seems that most really poor people are crazy, and I love me some crazy. However joyful it is to get to talk to weirdos all day, around 5:01 p.m. Monday through Friday, I head for home and put on some cheery music to help me take my mind off all of the Debbie Downers I spoke to that day. It’s very wearying.

In their defense, I would probably be down too if my house was in foreclosure, I had a billion bill collectors haranguing me on a minute-by-minute basis, my wages were being garnished at about 90% of my total income, I had to fill out 50 pages of front and back paperwork reminding me that I had absolutely no money to spend at the dollar menu, and I smelled like a smokestack. I think that’s enough to compel even the most saintly of us to get all liquored up at 8:30 a.m. and cuss out the receptionist at your attorney’s office. I don’t blame them. I blame Ogden. The ghetto is just bad luck.

Anyway, so I’m thinking in maybe a year or two, or sooner if I can afford it, I’m buying a house. Pretty much every house up for sale right now is up for sale because it was foreclosed on. This is unfortunate for Ogden’s latest homeless person but good news for people like me. People who might be interested in a 3 bedroom, 2 bath house built in the pretty 1920s craftsman era for a whopping $30K. Count me in.

And yes, that does mean I like it here. I pretty much love it here. I’m not sure why, but I’m pretty sure the ghetto was chosen for me. The way everything fell together feels like kismet. I give Ogden a lot of crap as you are all aware. I make sure my car and house are locked every two seconds and I don’t go outside if I feel like there’s any remote possibility of me being out past dark. I guess creepy and ghetto suit me, and I love it. And not just because I can get drunk before going to work each morning. But because I can get drunk and get bar donuts before going to work each morning. I do love me some bar donuts.

Today I went and did something I haven’t done in a long time (long as in four weeks or so!): I took myself to a movie. For the record, Sunshine Cleaning was one of the better movies I have seen in a long time. I have debated for the past 24 hours going back to blonde. After seeing Amy Adams and Emily Blunt and their beautiful red hair (Emily Blunt did not have red hair in this movie but she does usually so I pretended), I thought better of it.

I feel like I really bonded with Emily over our mutual snarkiness, and Amy and I really cemented our relationship over the fact we both write inspirational messages on our bathroom mirrors that make us laugh at how pathetic it is to write inspirational messages on your bathroom mirror. (I will not comment on just how many people used my bathroom in Logan and made fun of me when they came out mocking my “You’re beautiful! You can do it! Smile… right now!” message. In my defense, I always did smile… right then! when I read that message. I’m a dork.)

Anyway, the movie was bloody and disgusting, and there were maggots and there were whole sections of the movie consumed with human… uh… material. But it was unbearably touching and beautiful at the same time. I like movies that combine the best of both worlds: the F word with voyages of self-discovery. Another thing I like in movies: no love stories. Please. People don’t love each other. Even in cinema. So yeah, no love story here, unless you count the one where these two women come to love themselves as they’re cleaning up the mess left behind by someone who shot their own face off. It just doesn’t get a whole lot better than that.

So point is… I recommend it. Rated R probably for use of the F word, and for all the post-shooting-your-head-off grisliness. And maggots. I threw up.

I went to a good concert with Gillis & Co. today. You should probably look up Frank Turner. My favorites include “Long Live the Queen” and “Romantic Fatigue.” And people in Ogden are fun. The end.

Not quite the end. Dinner at my house on Tuesday. You should be there.