The big girl job.

I don't know that I actualy told any of you kids about it but since you know about it i will share some of my joy with you about my Big Girl job.

First off, let me start by saying how glorious it is to be OUT OUT OUT of retail... or atleat how glorious it WILL be when my two weeks is up. Anyone looking to have the desire to kill themselves or atleast rip apart some kids stuffed annimal, call 1-800-footwear and take my job.

My job title is "Marketing Coordinator" and I work for a tiny company that is doing amazingly large things with the federal government. HUH-- what? oh my, how embarassing.... anywho, it is a pretty exciting job and I work for a very.... exciting lady so I can't really complain..... other than this one teeny thing.

My office is temporarily in an internet studio. Cute, quiet and comfortably small, some designing idiot decided it would be really "sweet" and "totally kickin'" if they put in those tiny, scalding hot bulbs that simulate sun shine inside of sellariums. So here I am, tickity tackin on my pc, happy as a clam at the clam bake, roastin and toasting the last tiny bit of my youth away.... charming, int' it?

Aside from that, nothing too new to report. Guess you all will just have to amuse yourselves with this little open game:

What should my new alias be since I can no longer be called "Super Footwear Girl?"

Leave your commments and take you monkeys ;)

SO my big-girl boss told me to take a five minute break before the launching of my first event so i am blogging. Sick, I know. All I wanted to say is thanks to whoever says congrats about my job and boo to those who don't say anything. Have you any souls?

lol... talk to you guys on the weekend when I'm not working at my big girl job... :)

PS. This website was not designed wit hthe intention of informing people about the sacred and misunerstood art of Kare-a-tea. Please, do not regard me as a guru on marshal arts. Cause I'm not...

MY LIFE IS A SITCOM
ACT ONE
SCENE ONE

ENTER Mr. Heartbreaker, my gay ex-boyfriend, and myself, Super Footwear Girl.

Mr. Heartbreaker: i started a new blog because myspace is rotting my brain
Super Footwear Girl: HAHAHA
Mr. Heartbreaker: myspacetherapy.blogspot.com
Super Footwear Girl: I would like to say "I could have told you so had you asked"
Super Footwear Girl: Everyone asks "Hey, y r'nt u on myspace?!" and I say "Because you're a moronic loser that abuses punctuation and so is your whole generation"
Mr. Heartbreaker: but yeah. i'm trying to blog because myspace is digital crack
Mr. Heartbreaker: i know you used to read my old one from time to time
Super Footwear Girl: totally I'm a good blog whore, though your blog was often times too much about people
Super Footwear Girl: you are a friggin toolbox
Mr. Heartbreaker: it was, i know
Mr. Heartbreaker:the new one hasn't had much mention of people
Super Footwear Girl: "people" are okay. mindless recording of events for the sole puropose of recording events is shit.
Mr. Heartbreaker: lol.. i haven't yet mindlessly recorded events
Super Footwear Girl: make your reader love the characters, dont' share with them the people
Mr. Heartbreaker: aside from briefly mentioning things

************SEE www.myspacetherapy.blogspot.com To understand****************
Super Footwear Girl: it's because it's cold and everyone smells better.
Mr. Heartbreaker: hahaha
Super Footwear Girl: no seriously, everyone smells good in the fall.... in the winter they don't care, the spring smells are better than any artificial ones, and needless to say, people don't take enough showers in the summer, thinking that pool water serves the same purpose...fall is better because people care about how they smell
***********************************************************************************
Super Footwear Girl: hey you have a comment
Mr. Heartbreaker: gasp!
Super Footwear Girl: OMG the other day i was going through old old old old old floppys and I found a conversation we had online... like Simba41119 old (4 years, nearly anient in IM years)
Mr. Heartbreaker: you're a whore
Mr. Heartbreaker: btw, LOL
Super Footwear Girl: which comment was for which
Super Footwear Girl: and promise you won't delete that!
Super Footwear Girl: It's your first comment
Mr. Heartbreaker: 1- i won't delete that
Mr. Heartbreaker: the second comment was the Simba41119 reference
Mr. Heartbreaker: do you still have it handy?
Super Footwear Girl: no not handy... I went through all my disks just to see what had what and I'm a complete imbecile because I didn't even label them, I just looked at them and tossed them aside
Mr. Heartbreaker: whore, you know i would've copy-pasted for you
Super Footwear Girl: I'll find it one day and post it on my blog as cyber proof that at one point in time you were in a ridiculously sappy hetersexual relationship
Mr. Heartbreaker: yeah well
Super Footwear Girl: yeah well my arse
Mr. Heartbreaker: i coudl post some of my old songs/poems if i wanted to prove that point
Super Footwear Girl: no don't it's better when it looks like I am "outing" you
Super Footwear Girl:Mr. Heartbreaker was a strait boy! Mr. Heartbreaker was a strait boy!
Mr. Heartbreaker: we should get together and design a "surprise, Mr. Heartbreaker's gay!" web page we'll take pictures of me and i'll pretend to be shocked that you're telling people
Super Footwear Girl: straight
Super Footwear Girl: no no we shouldn't... I've had enough "surprise Mr. Heartbreaker's gay" moments in my life time thank you
Mr. Heartbreaker: so's my mom
Super Footwear Girl: you laugh like i'm f***ing kidding
Super Footwear Girl: you're mom and I are kindred spirits
Super Footwear Girl:other than the fact that I am a whore....
Mr. Heartbreaker: no, i laugh because i know it's true, and i know it's hilarious
Mr. Heartbreaker: i'm asking her right now, and she says she never thought you were a whore
Mr. Heartbreaker: she blamed me for being the whore, really
Super Footwear Girl: good she's a genius, we are kindred
Mr. Heartbreaker: you, and her, and brad could get together and write a book on me
Super Footwear Girl: WE ARE FAMILY!! GAY Mr. Heartbreaker HIS MOM AND ME
Super Footwear Girl: no just me, I think I have sufficient information thank you
Super Footwear Girl: I alone could write a three part series: The Hero, The Heated, The homo: an epic poem in three parts
Mr. Heartbreaker: the hero?
Super Footwear Girl: I did like you at one point you know
Super Footwear Girl: and I couldn't think of anouther good h word
Mr. Heartbreaker: ah
Super Footwear Girl: there is the largest dearth of suitable h-words for everyday conversation in the english language...
Mr. Heartbreaker: isn't there?
Mr. Heartbreaker: the best one starts with a W anyway
Super Footwear Girl: which one?
thebadgummybear: whotus?
Mr. Heartbreaker:lol
Super Footwear Girl: o ic
Super Footwear Girl: gosh if I could learn internet speak I could so avoid carpel tunnel
Super Footwear Girl: fact is i can't remember to think dumb
Super Footwear Girl: dumbly
Mr. Heartbreaker: yeah neither can i
Mr. Heartbreaker: i mean i've generally learned to disregard capitalization
Mr. Heartbreaker: but then again, who cares about it
Super Footwear Girl: I haven't, I like to try but sometimes my fingers are just too slow.
Super Footwear Girl: pudgy little bastards....
Mr. Heartbreaker: shut your whine hole
Mr. Heartbreaker: wow, that sounded much more vulgar than i meant it to
Super Footwear Girl: hey my whine hole is not vulgar, it is a beautiful piece of natur ethank you
Mr. Heartbreaker: so, what are you doing friday night
Super Footwear Girl: eating poo... nothing as of yet, probably working on craphole island, why?
Mr. Heartbreaker: wanna come to an asinine bravery show with me
Super Footwear Girl: today I will teach an english leason
Super Footwear Girl: children, what did the great writer Mr. Heartbreaker mean by his famous line "Mr. Heartbreaker: wanna come to an asinine bravery show with me" in his most sardonic epic pom "Ode to my ex-girlfriend"
thebadgummybear: what are you asking Mr. Heartbreaker?
Mr. Heartbreaker: i'm asking, would you like to accompany a group of friends, including myself, to a show on Friday night?
Super Footwear Girl: what show? it sounds like you're asking me to a jousting tournament
Mr. Heartbreaker: the bravery
Mr. Heartbreaker: the band whose CD never leaves my stereo
Super Footwear Girl:: no thank you
Super Footwear Girl: you listen to... how shall I put this.... the music that Satan rejects....
Mr. Heartbreaker: well, you listen to crickets chirp when you tell jokes
Mr. Heartbreaker: lol. did i actually do that?
Super Footwear Girl: yes yes you did
Super Footwear Girl: god I am so on fire tonight that I am draining you of your comic mojo
Mr. Heartbreaker: i don't doubt it at all
Super Footwear Girl: you're zinger just hit the floor and it sounded like this :
Super Footwear Girl: NOTHING! CAUSE THERE WAS NO ZING IN YOU ZINGER
Super Footwear Girl: budum chi
Mr. Heartbreaker: the other night, i ate pudding with a straw
Super Footwear Girl: mmm pudding....
Mr. Heartbreaker: wait, no, i know i ate something more ludicrous with a straw lately...
Super Footwear Girl: I am so making this into a blog
Mr. Heartbreaker: oh, i remember! I sucked the cream filling out of a donut.
Super Footwear Girl: nu-uh
Super Footwear Girl: nobody wastes a good cream filled donut like that
Super Footwear Girl: I'm rereading our conversation and editing some of the smudgy bits.... just you wait
Mr. Heartbreaker: i wait with bated breath
Super Footwear Girl: bated or baited
Mr. Heartbreaker: bated, right?
Super Footwear Girl: it was a play on words there for you
Super Footwear Girl: god should i pull up a chaise lounge and drag you around so you can keep up?
Mr. Heartbreaker: sorry, i'm semi-tired
Super Footwear Girl: you mind is getting fat and lazy
Super Footwear Girl: stop eating mind bon-bons

Your Birthdate: November 19Your birth on the 19th day of the month adds a tone of independence and extra energy to your life path. But at the same time, it poses a number of obstacles to overcome before you are able to be as independent as you would like. The number 1 energy suggests more executive ability and leadership qualities than your path may have indicated.
A birthday on the 19th of any month gives greater will power and self-confidence, and very often a rather original approach. However, a somewhat self-centered approach to life that may be in conflict with some of the other influences in your life. This 1 energy may diminish your ability and desire to handle details, preferring instead to paint with a broad brush.
You are sensitive, but your feeling stay somewhat repressed. You have a compelling manner that can be dominating in many situations. You do not tend to follow convention or take advice very well.
Consequently, you tend to learn through experience; sometimes hard experiences. The 19/1 is a loner number and you may experience feelings of being alone even if you are married. You may take on a tendency to be nervous and angry.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

>

So one unexpected e-mail from Mr. Hamster, one chit chat with a certain brother, and one Trick Pony album Later...

And most of my anxieties have been replaced with confusion, excitement and good honky tonk brawlin' music.

I know what I expected when I quickly tapped out my monthly email to his highness; nothing. A big fat nothingness. I made it short so as not to exhaust myself, thinking "surely this will be deleted, just like all the rest.." So I cranked out the usual "hi how are you? how's school? bye?" And you know what happened? Lo and behold I opened my mailbox a whole 24 hours later, EXPECTED NOTHING MIND YOU, and up pops a response. Granted it was 3 lines long and all it said was "school is boring and I have (insert ridiculous class that only future presidential advisors take here) bye," but that is 8 full words longer than any single address he's given me since "Hey aren't you in my A! English class?" (Oh wait that's the first thing I said to him...) Go figure. Miss. Salsbury and I figure it's the end of the world, and we have already picked out our jello flavors... (Long story...) Seriously though I wonder what was going through his mind? Don't boys know that they drive us batty doing stupid crap like this?

What's that you say? They do know? OF COURSE THEY KNOW BECAUSE THEY ARE MANIPULATIVE SWINE...

Well, some of them....

'The brothers', however, are doing exceptionally well. I had planned on having them attend my Novemember Birthday Bash, but they have severely dampened my spirits by giving me a less than hopeful "maybe," but thankfully their answer depends solely on whether or not the have a contract at that point in time, which might provide much aggitation to some, but for me, I understand economics well enough to know the importance of accepting jobs. Aside from that minor drawback, I am certain that they like us (me, my roomates, and Miss. Tattoo) just as much as we like them.

As usual, Jason Mraz sums life the universe and everything up just fine:
1000 Things

I'm overjoyed and over loved and feeling lucky Like a little boy who's hiding under covers And looking to discover any way to play the part inside his darkened cave Well the meaning of life it starts at the nightlight Close your eyes and

I haven't written in a while for a few reasons.

• I haven't had the time, what with saving the world one pair of shoes at a time.
• I haven't had too many interesting things running through my mind.
• I am mortified, mystified and other long m-words about something that has proved to be the first impedement to my writing in my entire life.

I have been trying in vain to get myself to sit down, make a resume, and find a "big girl job." You know, the more i think about it, the more I feel myself becoming terrified by success. I mean, let's be honest, I could be in college by now excelling in english and cursing my math teacher. Or I could be in the Navy, on my way to A school. Or I could be in the Academy, a mix of both worlds that would have made everyone proud of me. But no. No, I am selling shoes. I am Al Bundy. What the hell...

The second one isn't at all true and as faithful readers you should have detected that lie a mile away. I have had an amazing amount of things running through y brain like the roadrunner but I have no idea how to articulate them in a way that will suffice. My mind is so full of vivid pictures and dreams that i don't know where to begin. My trip to Hawaii was beautiful, so much so that i wish it were my reality, not my surreality that I partake of once a year. I keep waking up to the warmth of the sunshine and the weight of the thick sweet air only to find that it is a rainy Maryland October Monday and the cat is pawing my face for food.

What with my trip, "The boys," my dissapointment in myself, my joy in everything else, and the renaissance festival, I should have enough material atleast for a few passing shallow entries. But nothing comes. My writing is cramped way up in the corner of my mind and has attached itself with iron chains to the tree of solitude. Why, you ask gentle reader? or perhaps you don't ask. Perhaps you know. Perhaps you're happy about my unfortunate inexpressability. Perhaps this is just the news that sets your heart a-fluttering. You might be one of the two people out of my readers who doesn't believe in freedom of speech and felt it neccessary to tattle on me to someone whom I once respected and now fear with all the passion in my little writers soul. You may be one of the elfin cowards who refused to come to me directly but sent every one in your arsenal of mutual friends and saw no change in my behavior so decidedly you became more harmful, hurtful and all those other nasty h-words.

As if this summer has not caused enough pain to my already deflated and delicate heart, someone had the nerve to invade my inner sanctum. Someone had the gall to say that I was doing wrong by writing about my feelings. Two blog entries ago, I made a lengthy and heartfelt apology to whomever it may have concerned. To whom I had offended I apologized. But I have resently changed my tune, as I am want to do every now and again. I would like to retract my apology. I am not sorry. I am not sorry that you don'tlike what I have to say. I am not sorry that i don't like you. I am not sorry that you are not likeable. I am not sorry that what I had to say about my feelings offended you. If you don't like it, you have the choice to turn away and change the web page. I however have not got the luxery of turning a cheek to my own feelings. The things that you detest so much; the pain and hurt and anger and humiliation I have felt from the things forced upon me throughout this whole ordeal are not my fault. I will not own the action as well as the reaction. I never told you to change. I never force dyou to respect me. I never asked for anything from you. I simply stepped aside and chose to deal with it by myself. Shame on you. Shame on you for taking my sanctuary from me. Shame on you for berating the victim. Shame on you for adding injury to injury. Shame on you for kicking a girl while she's down. I am defeated. You have won. Leave me to my solitude and expression.

I feel as though this will not be the end of it. I feel as though I have been censored. I feel naked, stripped of my dignity and my peace. Tears are not enough. Action fails me. I am, for the first time in my life, unsure, frightened, helpless, dibilitated, defenseless, paralyzed, and exposed. My heart is no longer my own. My head is invaded by alien thoughts of inadequacy.

How dare you judge me.

i went to the library today with the express interest in checking my email and writing a riveting blog entry about "the brother's" and since I checked my e-mail and saw absolutely no peeping tidbit from the boys, I am beyond downtrodden and without a muse. Stupid boys. This whole summer has been one long train of dissapointing encounters involving the opposite sex. Forget it, i am currently learning Italian and moving to Italy where i can be a spinster with grace.