Last night was one of those nights at work where I became absolutely appalled by the way my manager spoke to me.  I don’t say that because “I’m so high high and mighty and holier than thou”, I say that because I can’t believe any boss would ever speak to their employees as such.  I know many do, but I’ve always been one of those people who believes that it’s extremely unprofessional, disrespectful, and all around rude.

In my personal opinion, as a boss, it is much more effective to tell your employee that they are doing something wrong in a calm manner.  If this person needs a disciplinary, there’s always a calm way around it, not “Oh for fuck’s sake, I can’t believe you could have fucked up this royally.” If a manager says something like “listen mate, I’m sorry, but you’ve messed this up before, and I’m going to have to give you a disciplinary.”  That way, the boss gains the respect from their CO-WORKERS.  At the end of the day, their employees are also their co-workers, and deserve to be treated as such.  I also understand that many managers don’t care whether or not they receive respect from their co-workers, as long as their co-workers get their job done at the end of the day.  They feel that as long as they do that, they are free to  yell at them, be rude to me, all around treat them like they are lower beings and judge them for being so.

Frankly though, if a manager is under a company, as some pubs are, then the company that owns them should probably be aware of the way some of their employees are treated by their manager.  I know for a fact, that without a professional attitude, a pub company can discipline whoever, however they want for that little reason.

Anyway, back to the story at hand, and please, feel free to disagree with me if you think it is completely legit that she spoke to her employee like this.

First of all, let me start out that as I write this, I’ve seem to come down with some sort of cold.  Heavily.  This morning, I woke up and couldn’t breathe through my nose at all.  I went to sleep feeling the same way.  My throat felt odd and yadda yadda yadda, I’m sure you’ve all had a cold before.

It started out about two days ago.  You know when you just feel it coming on? I knew I was going to end up sick.  But the next day, I thought I felt fit enough to go to work and work my ass off serving prestigious assholes, perverted horndogs, and over-pretentious mothers.  Earlier that morning, we had a table of 50, which I was not there for.  But apparently, because of how little my G.M. helped, and how much my assistant manager (A.M.) had to work, EVERYONE was grumpy.  I will give my G.M. credit because she was working in the kitchen all day (I was shocked to find out that she even got up and did some work).

But I got there, and got right to cleaning the pub up because quite frankly, it was a state.  I had to do tables, glasses, serve, run food, clean, all at the same time, and I only finished cleaning up right before it was time to start closing up.

I had spoken to my A.M. throughout the night, and she had asked on numerous occasions if I was feeling alright.  I told her I was feeling ill, and it was getting progressively worse, which I can only assume it hit me so hard because I was working.

I usually have Mondays off.  So I was looking forward to a day of lying in, blowing my nose every ten seconds, and at least starting my final work for University that’s due next week.  Considering I haven’t had time to start because of my constant shift from work and Uni, I was quite pleased.

Now, my G.M. comes out of the kitchen, and doesn’t ask me if I can work tomorrow, like any other normal manager would.  She doesn’t ask me, she TELLS me, I am working tomorrow from 12 to 5.

So that’s fine.  I didn’t say anything, but I continued on with my job.  My A.M. asked how I was feeling and I told her the honest truth; I felt a bit rough.

She kindly tells me “Look, if you feel sick, then just go to tell Kaz that you can’t work tomorrow.  Honestly, she’ll appreciate it more if you tell her that now rather than you call her up at 11.30 tomorrow morning and tell her.  This way she has time to find more people to cover you.  You just don’t want to let her down“

And this was true.  I didn’t want to let anyone down.  So I walked into the kitchen, and said to her pretty much the same thing.  “Listen, Kaz, I don’t know if it’s a good idea that you put me on shift tomorrow.  Truth is, I haven’t been feeling well today, and I don’t want to let you down tomorrow because I don’t know how I will be feeling in the morning.“

Her response?

“Aw, for fuck’s sake.  Fine, fine, whatever, whatever.”

I was a bit shocked at her reaction, and I turned around to walk away.  But this wasn’t the end.  She then proceeded to yell, across the kitchen for everyone to hear:

“And d’you know what, Lily?  If you feel that fucking bad, then you can just fuck off home now! Go tell Catty!“

I was so shocked by this.  I walked out to the bar, and just stood there for a couple of seconds.  Catty, which if you haven’t guessed yet is my A.M.  comes up to me, asks if I’m okay, and I tell her what happened.  Her response was “welcome to my world“.

Honestly, I could have let this go if it was just her losing her cool this ONE TIME.  But it’s not.  Catty’s response lead me to believe that Kaz treats Catty like this all the time, which just isn’t fair.

Let me also make clear that I have not ONCE done anything to make her think that I could be faking, which is exactly what she thinks.

Catty defended me, bless her.  She went in there, and Kaz says “I’ve just been informed that Lily is feeling ill.  Why is she still here?“

To which Catty replied with:

“Look, she’s been saying she’s been feeling ill all day, so it’s not like you told her to work,and she came up with an excuse not to.  I’m calling Sam right now to see if she can cover her shift, so stop taking your anger out on her.” and she walked out.

But it honestly got me considering to notify Greene King about the way she treats her employees and for many other things she does that I don’t quite know if she is allowed to do.  I’m not the only person she speaks to like that.  She used to take our tip money out of the tip jar and put it into the tills if they were down.  She doesn’t now.  Now, we are each individually assigned our own tills.  But this is another thing I don’t know if it’s allowed.  She makes us COUNT those tills, on the bar, in public view, then if any money is missing, we have to pay for it out our own pocket money.  On busy or slow days, the majority of the time, she sits and does nothing, or plays on her computer whilst eating or drinking.  She’s just a horrible manager.

I was already thinking of notifying Greene King before, but now with the full on experience as to how she treats her employees, I have a damn right mind to call them up and tell them to sort their lives out.

I don’t want Kaz to lose her job.  I would never wish that upon anyone especially with the current recession.  I just wish she knew that all the things she does are completely wrong, and shouldn’t be done.

I admit it.  I’m vain.  Very vain.

And for some odd reason, it seems to come out slightly more whenever I commute to London.  My boyfriend doesn’t seem to understand this.  I don’t think a lot of people do.  But in London, when I don’t make an effort, it just so happens to be days when all those tall, beautiful, stylish blond bombshells seem to leave their homes and go run their errands.  All of which require them to look absolutely stunning.  As if they are all wearing Prada, and Gucci, designers I certainly can’t afford.  At the same time, I don’t see a point in spending hundreds upon hundreds of pounds on a bag just because the tag says “Dior” on it.

I think knock-offs are just as good.

Anyway, every time I go to London now, I can’t help but make an effort.  I’ve been watching tutorials on Youtube on how to do my make up properly.  More specifically, the enviously gorgeous and talented Michelle Phan.  I am beginning to love doing it, which probably isn’t doing wonders to my skin.  But I love that natural look of foundation, and that outrageous look on your eyes.

Anyway, this is but one of the things I do before I commute.  I try my very hardest to look as stylish as possible.  As you can imagine, this is slightly difficult for a girl who went from NEVER putting an effort (Seriously, you can ask Samantha), to putting all the effort.

But I never feel like it’s quite good enough.  Until today.  One of my classmates, Sioban (who by the way makes me laugh a lot during Spanish class, which I don’t think is helpful in my learning process), walked up to me and said to me “Well, don’t you look Hollywood today”

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

I felt good about myself.  I felt like I looked like a proper Londoner, or at least someone who has some money.  It doesn’t escape the fact that I don’t have any, but it was nice to feel like maybe, when I do obtain it, I can get more things like the stuff I was wearing today.  And more make – up.  I’m running out.

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These next to two topics that I want to discuss are just little reviews, kind of.  I don’t know why I feel the need to write about it, but I do.

Bad Romance by Lady GaGa.

I have got to tell you, this song blew my mind.  I’m usually quite skeptical of her songs because, I won’t lie, I feel the girl is way too cocky for her own good.  But let’s face it, her songs have so far, been pretty bad ass.  And this song, I feel is so awesome.  To  be honest, I can’t seem to stop listening to it.

Granted I have some issues with the girl herself.  As said, I think she’s way too arrogant for a pop artist who’s only been around for about a year or so.  That’s pretty much my only issue with her.  I LOVE confidence.  I do NOT love arrogance.

But at the same time, I have mixed feelings.  Seeing the Bad Romance video, at first, it freaked me out.  But slowly, I can’t help but sit there and analyse it.  Not for it’s symbolism or it’s sense of constant weird story lines (I’m assuming she’s either being trafficked, or in some sort of mental institution), but just because it’s down right weird.

However, I admire her for how she can just go out like that.  She can just do it, and feel no humiliation.  I admire that so much.  I think that that is astounding!  I could never do that.  I also admire the fact that she doesn’t JUST dress like his for the music videos.  She dresses that strangely ALL THE TIME.  And although, I think the majority of her wardrobe is ridiculous, I still think she rocks it wonderfully.

An interview I saw with her pretty much explains my complete mixture of feelings of knowing whether or not to like her.  At the moment, I don’t like her attitude in the slightest, but I admire her guts.

Interviewer: Are you not intimidated?

GaGa: No.  Whatever.  I have three hit songs, and have sold almost 40 million albums world-wide, I don’t care.

I know it doesn’t sound like much, but her tone when answering this question just seemed quite rude.  But then again, the title of the interview said “Interviewer judges Lady GaGa”

Lady GaGa:  If I were a guy, sitting here with a cigarette in my hand, and talking about how I rock, and fuck all these girls, you would call me a rock star.  But because I’m female, you judge me.  At the end of the day, that’s all I am.  I’m a rock star.

And THAT right there.  RIGHT THERE, is a reason I feel like I can slightly slide on over to team GaGa.  She may be arrogant, but she knows what she is, and she is standing up for women everywhere at the same time.

But Bad Romance?  Yeah.  It Rocks.

———————————————————————

I have a habit of changing favourite comedians every year or so.  I’ve gone from Robin Williams, to Ed Murphy, to Dane Cook, to Wanda Sykes, to Lee Evans, to Ron White, to Bill Bailey and so on and so forth.

Well, in the upcoming 2010, my new favourite comedian is a man called Michael McIntyre.  I looked him on youtube at the Apollo, and oh my God, within the first three minutes, I was trying so very hard not to laugh loudly because everyone in the house was asleep.

I mean seriously.  He is hysterical.  He has this awesome way of talking where he ALWAYS sounds excited, but posh all at the same time.  He can do accents extremely well, and he isn’t vile or filthy.  I think the filthiest joke he made was when he clarifying someone he had said which could be taken as a sexual innuendo.

I would reccomend ANYONE to watching him or listening to him.  He has this knack of making you smile the moment you see him on T.V.!

————-

So, there are my reviews, which is a first for my blog, (except for the time I talked about Michael Travessor, who by the way, I think is in jail now for touching minors, HAH).

I’m wondering if I’ll get hate comments.

So this month has officially sucked.  I mean, seriously.

I’m generally a happy person, and this month, I’ve tried even harder to maintain that happiness because, well, who wants to be miserable?

And I think I’ve handled it pretty well.

But let’s rewind for a minute, and look back at how it started.

It’s no secret that I’m quite loud in person, especially when I get excited, or hyper, or am in a general good mood.  I become loud, obnoxious, and sarcastic.  I believe this is what most American girls are like.  I’ve not met one that doesn’t do exactly the same thing.  I also understand, that because of my accent, I stand out a significant amount.

When I worked in London at the Whistle and Flute in Putney, I was actually able to keep from being as noticed because I was working with a Polish girl, an Indonesian guy, a Swedish girl, and a Latvian guy (who on many occasions felt the need to remind me how much he hates Polish people; and for those of you who don’t know, I’m 75% Polish).  Not to mention, the ridiculous amount of international customers that entered the pub on a regular basis, especially on busy nights.  So it wasn’t that difficult to conceal the accent that I was raised with.

However, I seem to forget that I don’t live in America anymore.   And I don’t live in London anymore.  I am pretty sure I’m one of maybe 5 or 6 Americans that actually live in Rugby.  Considering the pub I work at currently (or as I like to call it, the 7th circle of hell) isn’t exactly booming with customers, I might make myself a little more than noticeable.

But I’ve never done anything to insult a customer.  I try my very hardest to keep my cool during the workplace because that’s exactly what it is, the workplace.  And this pub gets a severe amount of complaints that all we can do is offer them a 20 pound voucher on their next visit, desperately hoping they will return because we make no money.

And unfortunately, one a day my manager was on holiday, a complaint was e-mailed.  About the service, the food, the price, and low and behold, moi.

“The American barmaid was very loud in her conversation with her colleague, even so far as calling him a bastard”.

I understand the complaint especially under the circumstances of me cursing loudly without even realising it.  But I suppose what really peeved me was the fact that they said the word “american” as if it were a deragatory term.  I’m sure they didn’t mean it like that, but my manager decided that this was reason to give me a disciplinary action.  Again, fine and dandy.  This irritated me at first, because I have never ever in my life ever received a personal complaint about me, let alone a disciplinary action taken against me.  It’s just a verbal warning, but it did strike me.  It was just the meeting we had to discuss this.  She was pretty much telling me that it’s okay for EVERYONE ELSE to be loud and gaudy behind the bar, but not for me.  EVERYONE ELSE can curse, but not me.  Because I’m American, and that makes me loud.  It may be true, but I can’t help but feel a bit sectioned because of it.

Oh and you know what else sucks?  Having ZERO MONEY.  Seriously, I have just about enough to get me from Rugby to London and back this week, but I have no idea how in the world I will be getting home via cab.

I also don’t like the fact that apparently, we HAVE to work Christmas day.  And we will be getting paid our normal hourly rate.  From what I heard, my assistant manager was paid three times as much at her last job for working Christmas day.  I don’t know if this is my pub personally, or the Greene King.

So that’s act one.

Act two was discussed in my last entry.  Granted it’s all been taken care of, and nothing will be happening to me, but the simple news of it shocked me to my very core.  I spent all week dubiously concerned and stressed because I look at the worst of things when it comes to me getting into trouble.  “What if they expel me?  If they expel that’s on my permanent record! If it’s not on my permanent record,then no other University will accept me! What about all my money that I spent?!  I’ll  have nothing! I’ll end being poor and homeless!”

But of course, that didn’t happen.  They ended up sending me off with a warning, and giving me another chance at my presentation, which is great.  But still, pretty shitty thing to hear after you just got a disciplinary at work.

And just when I thought that was it, and that that was all I had to deal with this month, my mother informs me that my beloved dog, who I have mentioned in a previous entry, was put down.

I understand the reasons why he was put down.  He was so old, his back legs just stopped working, and if he had been kept alive any longer, he would just have suffered, and that is the last thing I want for my baby.

I’m so sad he is gone.  He was a beautiful dog.  A beautiful, white, siberian husky with one brown eye, and one blue eye, and the spirit of a young dog trapped in an old dog’s body.  I hope he finally gets the rest and peace he’s been striving for so long.

Recently, I did a presentation for one my classes.  I get extremely nervous extremely easily, so this presentation stressed me out.  The moment my tutor told us we were having a presentation, I got to work.   I had 6 weeks to prepare it, even though I only needed three.  I took down notes, wrote down a 10 page outline, then did a power point.

It’s the first time I’ve done a presentation by myself in years.    I stumbled across my words, I had notes to help me through, but I did it.  Even after the presentation, I was still shakey, and nervous.  But I did it.  I felt accomplished, I felt good, and for me, it was over.  I no longer had to worry about my presentation.

Then I get an e-mail from the Linguistics administrator.  She tells me that my tutor has advised an interview between the programme convener, herself, and a disciplinary officer.  She has also advised me to familiarise myself with the material I presented, and the Academic Regulation 7.13.  I looked at it, and the regulation says that any evidence I bring, and anything I say, will be used in a decision they will make.

I looked over the whole damn thing, and apparently, I’ve broken some sort of academic regulation.  And personally, I think they think I plagairised my presentation.

Let me just say on the record RIGHT NOW, that I would NEVER in a million years even THINK of doing something.  In fact, I’ve been very careful not to the past 3 years I’ve been at this stupid University.

In my powerpoint, I had things from the book, like anyone else would, but I also made sure that with everything there, I said out loud “Jennifer Coates also noticed…” or “She concluded…” or “she asked…”

Not once did I ever claim the experiment she conducted, the results she had written, or the explanations given to be my own.  The only time I ever said anything personal of mine was when  we were supposed to tell the class our own comments of the research we had done.  And even then, I said “Although I think this was an interesting topic, I do have to agree with JENNIFER COATES that this results and conclusions would have been different, if the experiment was conducted on different people from different areas.  In my personal opinion, the way someone grows up adapting to speech depends on what environment they are in, like for instance, the type of school they go to.”  I also had a bibliography.

The tutor asked me why I felt that way, and I gave her the example that I was American, and that I believed my speech (not just my accent), would have turned out entirely different if I were to be raised in England instead.

Fine.  Dandy.  But now, they want this interview.  And of course, I freaked out.  I started bawling my eyes out because for God’s sakes people, I’ve never even been sent to the Principal’s office.  I became so terrified that they were going to kick me out of the school, and that my three years there would have been a total waste.  I’ve already decided what I’m going to do if they do decide to do so, but that’s not even the point.  The point is, that already, they have managed to screw me over.

I e-mailed the woman back asking what this whole thing was regarding and why is it viewed as necessary.  I’m just extremely unhappy with the outcome of this situation.  I talked to my mother, to my boyfriend and to my friend.  They all think the same thing, which I must admit, puts a bit of ease on my mind.

“There is no way that they are going to kick you out of the University.  The punishment is much too harsh for someone who first of all, didn’t even know she had done something wrong, and they will know that once they speak to you, and second of all, a first offense”

Which I guess is true.  It would be a bit harsh of them to expel me after my first mistake.

But there is one reason I think my tutor is doing this.  Last term, in what I thought was my final term, I turned in an essay half way (because that was what was required of us) for her class, Sexist Language.  I had written out a rough draft, with no bibliography, and no quotes.  I wrote it like that because I wanted to double check how my writing was and where the perfect place to put my quotes would be.  No bibliography because it was a rough draft.  After I wrote out my clean draft, I saved it under a similar name to my previous draft.  Because I was in such a hurry to print it out and turn it in before the deadline, and I still wanted to edit it, I accidently e-mailed myself (because I am lame and don’t have a memory stick) the rough draft, and turned that in.  Luckily for me, she noticed it, and gave me another shot.  I explained to her what must have happened, I apologised profiously and she allowed me to print out my clean draft, and turn it in at the end of the term.  SOUND.

But now this is happening.  She must think I’m some sort of chronic plagairiser.  If it comes up in the interview, I will once again explain, starting with the words “Yes…BUT I told you the situation.  It was a mistake, and an accident all at the same time”.

It just boggles my mind how a University can do this.  Especially when never once did I ever claim the research in my presentation as my own.

And what bothered me the most, was because if they had kicked me out, it’s my final term.  I am so close to getting that stupid diploma that I’ve been kicking my own ass for, and they have been helping me kick it.  And A MONTH before the end of term, they do this?  They possibly ruin my chances of getting it?  IF that is the case, I want m $75,000 back.

On Thursdays, I have two classes that I have to attend.  One is Language and Gender, and the other is Elementary Spanish.  Unfortunately, that leaves me with one to two hours interval  between the two lectures.  So today, I’ve decided to head on over to the LRC and cruise the internet.

Everything that could have gone wrong today, has!  Obviously, nothing too drastic, just frustrating measures that I’ve had to overcome.  I bought a ticket to London, with only FOUR MINUTES BEFORE MY TRAIN LEFT, and I asked him for a return ticket to Barnes, whilst frantically looking back at the clock as if I was timing myself before I had to pee.  So he gives me the tickets, and off I run to catch the train which is pretty much ready to depart.  I sit down, and listen to music calmly, and rethink about the massive presentation I have to do today.

I finally get to London Euston, and as usual, I climb down the escalator to get the Underground, but alas! the ticket machine stops me.  The damn guy misunderstood me, and thought I just asked to go to London.  So I had to buy an entirely new ticket to get me to Barnes.  How.  Frustrating.

But it’s fine! It’s only six quid.  And on I go my merry way.  Of course though, the tubes stops, the Overground stops, and I finally get to Barnes station 30 minutes before my lecture.  Plenty of time, I know, but still, I wanted to print some documents out for my class so I didn’t have to shuffle back and forth between my book, and my powerpoint presentation.  As simple as it sounds, it turned out to be much more annoying then though.  It costs 6p per copy.  I have 20 slides to my presentation.  Unfortuantely, it would have ended up costing me £11.09 which is money I just do not have.

So, screw that idea, I’m just going to have to shift through the two bits I’ve brought with me.  And it was a mess.  I nearly shit a brick on numerous occasions.

But this has landed me to being in LRC after class.  Being here is fine, it’s not what’s making me feel how I’m feeling.  I decided to go into my inbox and look through some old messages.  I looked through old messages I had with Jeanette, Samantha, and a couple others.  Then I decided to go through my yahoo mail.  I re-organized the folders on my yahoo account ages ago so that it was easier to categorize and place e-mails where they properly belonged, instead of clogging up my inbox.  So I was looking at the folders, and noticed the one and only e-mail I received from my dad.

It’s not much of an e-mail.  It’s very short.  It’s about a paragraph long, but in the end, it’s HIM talking to me.  And it was the only e-mail he ever sent me.  And I love it more than anything.

“hello sweatheart,
 
thanks for getting in touch. i do have a bit of a guilty conciouss for not calling you, but i promise i shall over the next few days. dealing with babcia can be a bit diffucult, but i manage- perhaps the only person in the world that i can do. anyway staying at home was nice, though we did have some arguments with mom. so what else is new? i would love to come to london and bore you for a few minutes, but it might take some time. now, i think i know what you are studying, though i am not sure. journalism might be interesting, but frustating and tough – i have done it for the last thirty years in radio, press, tv and internet  in poland, the us and uk ( bbc world service) so i think i know what i am talking about (believe or not).
the profession seems attractive if you become recognized publically. however very few people make it and the rest are rather frustrated. As regards guatemalan  children – it seems to be a very nobile topic.  lets talk next week. in the meantime – if you need some money call me, not to often though! I undersatnd that ***** **** got in touch with you and also through his mom, your auntie Joanna, returned some funds.
At this stage my advise (while not solicitated) is: stay in touch with the guy, but keep away from him. I am not particurarly fond of him, even if i am his godfather. love you and miss you – from time to time. dad.”

On December 19th, it will be two years since he died.  And Lord knows not a day goes by without me thinking about him.  Granted, he did it to himself, but no young girl wants to go through losing someone they love.  And it will always bother me, and be painful for me to know that he won’t be the one to give me away at my wedding, or that he won’t ask my future husband to “cut in” when he wants to dance with me.  I mean, it’s my dad.  And I miss him.  It’s been nearly two years since his death, and it boggles my mind that so much time has slipped by so quickly.  I have a picture of him in my wallet, and whenever someone asks me who it is chillin’ in the clear, plastic envelope below my credit cards, I proudly say “That’s my daddy”.

He wasn’t always there, true.  He was very much the disciplinarian, true.  But he was MY disciplinarian.  And I am grateful for everything he taught me whilst I was growing up.  So, in a month’s time, when it’s time to say goodbye all over again (or maybe hello again), then I will raise the glass that I’m holding in my hand, look up at the sky, and now that a star was born on December 19th, 2007.

This is a funny list that a friend of mine posted on Facebook.  When I read this, I was in the Library of my University, in complete silence.  Then that silence was broken by my guffawing.  And I even tried to not laugh.  That only made it worse.  I snorted.  Ladies and gentlemen, I snorted.  So, here, enjoy what made me snort:

*Random thoughts from people our age…*

1. -I wish Google Maps had an “Avoid Ghetto” routing option.

2. -More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can’t wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that’s not only better, but also more directly involves me.

3. -Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.

4. -I don’t understand the purpose of the line, “I don’t need to drink to have fun.” Great, no one does. But why start a fire with flint and sticks when they’ve invented the lighter?

5. -Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you’re going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you’re crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.

6. -That’s enough, Nickelback.

7. -I totally take back all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.

8. -Is it just me, or are 80% of the people in the “people you may know” feature on Facebook people that I do know, but I deliberately choose not to be friends with?

9. -Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn’t work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix
10.the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ’s. We just figured it out. Today’s kids are soft.

11.-There is a great need for sarcasm font.

12.-Sometimes, I’ll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the f was going on when I first saw it.

13.-I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I’ll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone’s laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I’m still the only one who really, really gets it.

14.-How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

15.-I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

16.I think part of a best friend’s job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

17.-The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.

18.A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

19.Was learning cursive really necessary?

20.Lol has gone from meaning, “laugh out loud” to “I have nothing else to say”.

21.I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

22.Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.

23.My brother’s Municipal League baseball team is named the Stepdads. Seeing as none of the guys on the team are actual stepdads, I inquired about the name. He explained, “Cuz we beat you, and you hate us.” Classy, bro.

24.Whenever someone says “I’m not book smart, but I’m street smart”, all I hear is “I’m not real smart, but I’m imaginary smart”.

25.How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear what they said?

26.I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a dick from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!

27.Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using ‘as in’ examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had to spell my boss’s last name to an attorney and said “Yes that’s G as in…(10 second lapse)..ummm…Goonies”

28.-What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?

29.While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it…thanks Mario Kart.

30.MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

31.Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

32.I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

33.-Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

34.I would like to officially coin the phrase ‘catching the swine flu’ to be used as a way to make fun of a friend for hooking up with an overweight woman. Example: “Dave caught the swine flu last night.”

35.-I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.

36.Bad decisions make good stories

37.-Whenever I’m Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don’t mind if I do!

38.Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier & sluttier every year?

39.-If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.

40.-Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I’m from, this shouldn’t be a problem….

41.-You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you’ve made up your mind that you just aren’t doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

42.-Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don’t want to have to restart my collection.

43.-There’s no worse feeling than that millisecond you’re sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

44.-I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

45.”Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this ever.

46.-I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There’s so much pressure. ‘I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren’t watching this. It’s only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?’

47.-I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Dammit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What’d you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?

48.I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

49.-When I meet a new girl, I’m terrified of mentioning something she hasn’t already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

50.-I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it’s on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

51.-Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles…

52.As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

53.-Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

54.-It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

55.-I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

56.-Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn’t know what do to with it.

57.-Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, hitting the G-spot, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey – but I’d bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time…

58.-My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day “Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?” How the hell do I respond to that?

59.-It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.

60.-I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.

61.-I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

62.-I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

63.-The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimated that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There’s nothing like being made to feel like a fat bastard before dinner.

Money.  Let’s all admit it, no matter how shallow someone sounds when they say it, it may not be everything, but it sure helps a load.  This is the first bar job I’ve had since the Whistle and Flute, and to be honest, it’s my fault.  I should have never expected it would be the same way.  As much as I loved working at the Whistle and Flute, I told myself that I didn’t want another bar job.  I hated the way the people looked at me in this degrading way as if I was just another blonde barmaid that if they chat up enough, they might score with.  I hated the fact that I was so put down by customers when I made one little mistake on their drink.  And the truth is, I used to not take that.  Anytime a customer was rude to me, I would show them the same respect that they just showed me.

Old Royal Oak is a bit different.  It’s run under a different company than the Whistle (Whistle was Fullers, Old Royal Oak is Greene King), and it’s not a proper pub.  It’s mostly a family restaurant with a bar so that when parents can’t be bothered with their kids running around, they have a pint to cool their nerves.

Unfortunately, because I made about three mistakes in my first week as most people do, my manager officially thinks I’m incompetent.  Forget the fact that I’ve been working my ass off since then (now I’ve been there for about three months), and made about 2 more mistakes since then, and that I’ve done a better job behind the bar than the majority of the people that work there, INCLUDING HER.  Because of this, she won’t give me more hours, which means my income has become extremely low.  I now get paid 80 pounds a week.  That is NOT enough when I have to pay 50 pounds a week to get to London and back for two days, pay a phone bill at the end of the month which is 44 pounds, and a rent which is 35 pounds a week.  NOT WORKING.

It’s amazing, though.  She’s gone for two weeks, and we’ve had a replacement manager come in named Rob.  Guys.  I LOVE HIM.  We have a BOSS NOW.  I’m not sure if I complained about this in a previous entry, but if I haven’t, then my complaint is that MY REAL MANAGER DOES NOTHING BUT SIT THERE AND DRINK AND EAT!  She runs the pub completely backwards, and it takes my assistant manager (and now good friend) a good 45 minutes the tills at the end of the night, when it should only take her half that time.

But now Rob is here.  I’m so glad he has entered our lives.  He runs the pub the way that the Whistle was run.  It’s like working there all over again.  When we’re busy, we can make it fun.  He cleans, he’s taught Catty the real way of cashing up, he’s lenient, if we make a mistake, he says “it’s okay, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it” without sounding like we just killed his dog.

Last week, after looking at the Rota, he decided that he was going to try and see if he could get some kind of authorization from the Greene King, and see if he can change the schedule around and cut hours for some people, and give more to others, so that everything is equal.  Truth is, my manager plays favourites.  So because she loves someone, she will give them all the hours they so wish.  When she doesn’t, she will give them no hours.  One of my friends is going through the same thing I am, but the problem he has, is that he has a kid.  So he’s got him to support as well.  We, apparently, have some sort of percentage that we are supposed to spend on wages.  Apparently, we are WAY over, because certain people work too much.  So HOPEFULLY, I’ll be getting more shifts!

I just need to the extra money to commute to London.  Which is frustrating enough as it is.  It’s even more frustrating when we have a tutorial rather than a class.  That means that I have to pay that 25 quid just to go there for 15 minutes.  LAME.

I don’t mind my classes this term.  I take Screenplay Writing, Language and Gender, and Spanish.  Spanish is the only one I seem to have a problem with.  But I am so not even exaggerating when I say that I have gotten into major study mode this term.  You should see my Language and Gender book.  It’s all pink, not because it came like that, but because I highlighted the shit out of it.  My Spanish is the only one I seem to have a little bit of difficulty with.

And maybe, hopefully, I hope that my hours become more existent which will mean that I will be able to actually attend all of my classes.  Yes.  That would be nice.

When I first entered Roehampton, I was told that I need 120 credits in each year to graduate.  However, after completing 90 instead, they told me that that was fine.  In fact, when asked “Will this affect my graduation?” I got a flat out “NO.”

So why is it, four months after when my graduation was supposed to happen, I was not invited?  No, no, it turns out that because things have changed SO MUCH in the past three years, that my lack of credits WILL affect my graduation.

This wouldn’t be much of a problem if I was told about this during my final year at the University.  If I had been told that, then I would have taken more than one lecture in my first term of third year.  But whatever.  I’ve gotten over that.  I’ve gotten over the fact that after moving 2 hours away from London, I have to commute back and forth every Tuesday and Thursday to make up classes that they didn’t tell me about.  Fine.  If that’s what it takes to get that goddamn degree I’ve worked my ass off for, then fine.

I have to go on Tuesday to a class from 2 until 5.  I don’t get back to the house at least till about 7 or quarter past.  And that’s only if I have the money to take a cab back home.  Otherwise I have to walk up to the bus stop which is about 10 minutes away from the train station, wait 15 minutes for the bus to arrive, then travel another 15 minutes to actually get home.  I can walk back to the house in 8 minutes flat.

Thursdays are worse.  I have a class from 2 until 5, AND THEN, I have another class from 6 until 8.  This doesn’t get me back home until about half past 10.  Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

But once again, I’ve gotten over that.  I’ve accepted it, and I’m fine with it.

And then some good news arrives.  Apparently, I was told that I am actually able to take any class, as long as it makes up my lacking credits.  So voila, there is a class for 30 credits, which means I can drop my two classes on Thursday, and just handle getting back at half past 7 (since that is when the class would end).  SOUND.

So I e-mail my tutor about it, and ask her if there is any possibility.  But of course, I should have known better than to get my hopes up about something that could potentially relieve the stress that I have already because to be quite honest with you, I already have fuck loads of work to do.  In fact, I should probably get started on it next week, even though none of it is due until December 19th.

BUT AGAIN THEY HAVE DECEIVED ME! For in fact, it DOES matter what level the course is in for me to make the credits up.  The class I wanted to take was a second year course.  But because the credits I lack are in my FIRST YEAR I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE IT.

So awesome.  I mean, I know it’s not that big a deal, but the constant frustration that I am feeling is because I keep feeling that I’m being lied to by an organisation that I have spent thousands, upon thousands of pounds for.  They just keep bojangling me about, and as much as I loved my years at Roehampton, I just want to be able to walk up on that stage, stick my hand out, and take my diploma back home where it belongs.  I’m tired of them telling me different things, and then the outcome come out in the exact opposite of my benefit.

Their excuses are always these two:

“It’s every students responsibility to check their profiles and double check that everything is down correctly”

And

“Well, the University is constantly making changes and so we’re never aware of what might affect one student.  We have a lot of students, so we can’t keep up with it.”

Alright, so my response to the first one is I HAVE BEEN CHECKING MY STUDENT PROFILE.  The problem was not the fact that I didn’t notice my lack of credits.  I noticed my lack of credits.  I was concerned about my lack of credits.  I ASKED about my lack of credits.  I was told my lack of credits would not affect my graduation.

To the second one, I understand entirely that the University makes changes.  I honestly do.  Again, that’s not the issue.  The fact that there are a lot of students at the school is also not an excuse.  It is their jobs to inform the students who pay them loads of money that we will be paying back until the age of 90, when changes occur.  If I had been told about the changes, I would not be in the current situation.

I absolutely loved being at Roehampton.  I loved the people I met, and the friendships that were created that will never, in my life ever be forgotten.  I am so happy to know that when I get older, and start telling my daughter and son about the times, I was in college, I can start that sentence by saying just that; When I was in College, my friends and I had the best time doing…..

It’s just this final step.  I’ve been working and trying so hard to get this stupid degree, and one that might not even get me anywhere decent.  But it’s a degree, and I want it.  And the fact that they are delaying it so long, and making my life so much more difficult because of their own faults, and their constant lying towards me, it’s turning me against the University so quickly.  And I don’t want that.  I want to be able to tell my children how AWESOME my University life was, not how annoying they were.

At the end of the day though, I just have to ask myself if it’s all worth it in the end.  And after all the shit I’ve been through, after the lies, after the drama, and after the loads of money I’ve spent, is it all fucking worth it?

Dude, I made loads of friends.  I had my first proper girls night out with the people I met, and I actually turned myself into a young woman, rather then stayed a child.  I’ve met some of the best people, had some of the best time, and fell in love for the first time.

Of course it was worth it.  They’re just going to have to stop pissing me off.

Oh and just for Gerry and Sammi: Dude, seriously, I am getting comments from random people on DailyBooth, AND I have randomers following me.  Is this normal?  Or am I becoming slightly cool on DailyBooth?  Because that is the place that I want to be known for! x

I can’t blame my grandmother for some of the crazy things she comes out with.  She’s been through a lot in her life, and she has every reason to live in her circle of paranoia.  But when she does, we repeat what she has just told us, and she laughs with us because she realises just how ridiculous she sounds.

My grandmother, whom I call Babcia, is a person who is always fun to talk about.  The things she comes out with are just amazingly funny, not intentionally, and not to mention her cleptomania of household items just baffles my mind.  For instance, when my father was sick, she went to Poland(son-in-law) to stay with his sister, and my aunt, whom I will re-name Grace, at his apartment.  Grace owns a little dog, one of those yelpy ones, called Biddy.  Biddy, had a tendency to scratch at the door Lord knows how many times a day.  This resulted in an extremely shoddy door, which needed to be replaced.  Now, to do that, Grace needs to take the door off the hinges.  To do that, she needed to unscrew the hinges from the wall.  Since the screws were the out, obviously the door was ajar, and so when Grace needed to go out to order a new door, Babcia had to stay in the house, so that no one would actually break in.

Now before I get any criticism on leaving a woman of her age at home alone in Poland, with the door open, I think people may need a little clarification on my grandmother.  She may be old, and she may be strange, but girlfriend can kick some serious ass.  I’m telling you.  She is in her 70’s and she is alive, and kickin’.  You don’t want to fuck with her.

Anyway, when Grace returns, she looks for the screws that she had left on the side.  When asked, my grandmoter simply replied “….they’re my screws now” and walked away.  And for the record, she didn’t ever return them.

She’s quite blunt as well.  My mom and her friend went to New York to visit a girl that I grew up with, that  will re-name Jamie.  Jamie is a german girl whom I saw almost every day when I lived in Germany for five years.  She has since, moved to New York, gotten married, and gotten herself a job as an Opar, and a dancer.  As much as I adore Jamie, she has a tendency of putting on way too much make up, and dressing herself up sexy because in her eyes, wearing a tight black dress showing off your cleavage is professional and classy looking.  But that’s pretty much what she wore when my grandmother (who also lives in New York if you hadn’t caught on yet), my mother, and her friend went to meet her.  They all went to lunch together, and Jamie was wearing a headband to go along with her outfit.  The headband was black, with an enormous fake flower on it. The conversation between my grandmother, and this girl takes place.

“What is that thing on your head?”

“It’s a flower!”

Upon seeing Jamie’s slight discomfort, I suppose this was my grandmothers way of trying to apologise.

“I’m sorry.  I should not have made a comment about your flower.  I mean, if it were Lily, I would have ripped it right off her head”

I’ve told people stories about my grandmother so many times because, yes, they are funny.  To be honest, I haven’t heard one from my mother in a while until yesterday.  So I thought I might share it.

My grandmother writes.  She doesn’t publish anything, she just writes.  And that’s fine.  That’s her perogative, and that’s her own decision.  For as long as I’ve known her, she has always used a typewriter.  A very loud, typewriter.  So my mom and brother decided to get her a gift.  That gift, would be a laptop, and bless her, she has no idea how to use it.  My brother gives her a couple of pointers, and sets it up for her.  The only thing she uses it for is for her writing.  She doesn’t use it for the internet, she doesn’t it to watch anything or to listen, it’s simply to write.  And once again, that’s fine.  But to reiterate, she has no idea how to use it.

Now since my laptop has broken down and I am currently using my boyfriends computer, my mother thought of the idea to send me the laptop that my grandmother has.  Of course, I protest because it’s my grandmothers.  I know it will pretty much act brand new even though she’s had it for a few months, but it’s hers.  I would feel guilty.  That was until my mother told me of a conversation that she and her mother had held.

“You can give the laptop to Lily.”

“Why?  Don’t you like it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s cheating.”

…

It’s cheating apparently.  Like, with what?  The radio?  Bless her, we’ve tried to explain to her on numerous occasions that when you save a document, you scroll down and click “SAVE”.  If you click “Save As”, then you have to re-name is every time.  And she does.  So she has probably about 30 different documents, that are the continuation of one article she is writing.

She has also claimed that the laptop speaks to her.  Personally.  When asked why, she says that because when something happens to it, it says “Zofia”.  And again, we have to explain to her that this is because my brother set it up UNDER HER NAME.

You know how laptops have a little switch that allows the connection to the internet.  It doesn’t matter if the internet is strong as hell, if that switch is off, you will receive none.  Now, there is no need for my grandmother to have the internet.  But for some odd reason, she is convinced that if you switch that button, you will get internet regardless.  We’ve also had to explain to her it doesn’t work like that.  You have to PAY for it.  She refuses to admit, and is assuming she is right.

But I thnk the best part of the story is that when we suggested that she return to using her typewriter, she refused.  When asked why, I shit you  not, this was her response:

“Because it’s loud.  The neighbours upstairs can hear my typing and so they will come in at night and steal my work to give to the government.”

….

This is the same woman who was convinced that the reason one of the cardinals stepped down from the Vatican was because she wrote an angry letter to the Pope, explaining her frustration with this cardinal.

I love her for those moments.  Maybe she’s senile, or maybe she is just actually that stubborn to believe that the government cares about her writings about what she did that day, and how this day would have been different if World War II didn’t happen.  She firmly stands by the fact that if it weren’t for her, that Cardinal would still be a part of the Vatican.  Like her and the Pope are homies.  I love her.  I love her, I love her, I love her.

Please don’t mistake my love for criticism and fun.  I actually do love my grandmother.  She is the only grandmother that I’ve had since the age of 12, when my dad’s mom died.  I didn’t know my Babcia’s husband, and my other grandfather died when I was 8.  I have gained a lot of respect for my Babcia, despite her insane rantings, and hilarious assumptions.

But I thought that if any of my friends read this, like Sam, she would enjoy another funny grandma story.

Larry, after doing so well the past couple of days, has decided to stop charging my laptop. Or well at least, it stopped charging and then started again after I fiddled with it for about 45 fucking minutes. But I’m not bitter. iPhone to the rescue I suppose. Lets seehow far I can get with this.

In my last entry, I very briefly mentioned that I had taken a trip to Wales. The car journey there was actually a lot of fun. Mostly because Will was still slightly intoxicated from the night before and his attitude towards the whole thing made me pretty much laugh hysterically the duration of the trip.

Every time I have gone to Wales I have had a phenominal time. Including this time! But something I realised about myself is my utter, and unreasonable paranoia about my surroundings. All the other houses that we’ve stayed in have been near a town, a walking distance. This house was a bit different. It was located in smack dab middle of nowhere, down a private road , then down ANOTHER private road and then there was the house. It was very beautiful indeed, but in a place where no one could find us. So because I’m such a freakazoid, as my boyfriend so gracefully calls me, I was thinking of all the different dangerous situations we could be put in, and how no one would ever know. It was ridiculous.

I won’t lie. I usually have a discomfort on the first night of anywhere I stay,but the whole week? That’s never happened before. People had to keep talking me out of my fear. I was desparate to fall asleep early. I even freaked out when my boyfriend walked down to the nearest store to get cigarettes.

To make matters worse, there was constant rain that didn’t let up until the last day.

To be fair, despite that, the whole trip was fantastic. Even though there was rain, and even though there was paranoia circling my head every second, the atmosphere, the view and the games were all amazingly fun. The ocean was right next to us. The walk along it was beautiful and everything in Wales is just magical.

Okay, I think this is as long as I can handle writing in my iPhone so on that note, good night fellow bloggers.”