indulge your sense of amusement.

Dear U.S. Department of Education: I would like to take this opportunity to inform you of your incredibly illogical protocol for those of us indebted to you to opt into the income-based repayment plan. If on every single required form, it states to return the form to the Consolidation Department in Kentucky… do not sound appalled when I call to inquire as to why my paperwork hasn’t been processed because you don’t have my paperwork because when I tell you I sent it to the ADDRESS ON THE FORM, you then tell me it’s supposed to go to a completely different place, in Greenville Texas! If that’s the case, geniuses, CHANGE YOUR FORM TO REFLECT THE CORRECT ADDRESS!!! It’s impossible that I am the ONLY person that FOLLOWED THE DIRECTIONS and you therefore can’t process my paperwork. Does anyone else see the disconnect here?! Change your form. Thank you. Sincerely, CB

Dear cyclists of D.C.: You appear to have split personality disorder. Sometimes, you ride on the sidewalk. Other times, you ride on the street. However, only when it is convenient do you actually follow traffic laws. LAWS – NOT GUIDELINES. Here are some tips: A) Only go in the proper direction on a one-way street. B) STOP at a red light. C) Do NOT weave in and out of traffic like you own the road. Survival of the fittest – my civic could crush you, therefore I OWN THE ROAD. D) Do NOT ride your stupid bike on the sidewalk where PEDESTRIANS are supposed to go. Pedestrians get tickets for jay-walking. Cyclists, be warned, though I have never seen any of you get a ticket for jay-cycling, or any of the above traffic violations to which you so often adhere to… You can only tread water so deep before the sharks run you over because you’re in the way. Moral of the story: You are in the way. Follow the traffic laws, just like everyone else on the road… or get off the road and WALK next to your bicycle. Sincerely, Someone manning a large motorized metal box that could crush your tiny stupid bike.

Background: I am 27 years old and currently live with my mom because I can’t afford rent on an intern’s hourly wage. This has its advantages and disadvantages. Advantage: My mom makes me a lunch every morning (so cute). Disadvantage: I secretly put items I didn’t eat back in the fridge when I get home because I don’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her I didn’t like anything. As a side note, I’m not super into sweets. Scenario: Today’s lunch included a PB&J sandwich, a yogurt, an applesauce, goldfish graham crackers, and a chocolate hostess cupcake. Oh, and baby carrots and some homemade hummus (my mom makes awesome hummus). Disclaimer: This post might make me sound like a complete brat, but I assure you, my mom and I were laughing hysterically throughout the conversation, and I explained how much I appreciate her and love her for making my lunch. <3 Mom: Did you like your cupcake?!?! Me: well… it was very nice of you to put that in my lunch… Mom: Did you eat it? You didn’t like it. Why didn’t you like it? Me: I know, I’m sorry, but… you know I’m not really into sweets. Mom: [entering a state of nostalgia] When I was little my mom used to make my lunch, usually PB&J or bologna. [My mom has an icky expression on her face at this point] But she’d always put in a hostess cupcake [enter the euphoric sigh…]. I would sit there and [she enters a nostalgic alternate universe as she uses hand gestures to act out her childhood memory] … peel back the chocolate on top, and sometimes I would eat the squiggly first, and other times I would eat the squiggly last, and sometimes I would eat the cream filling first, but other times I would eat the cupcake part first, and THEN the cream filling. And then the squiggly. Unless I ate that first. [we both burst out laughing to tears] *slight pause as she comes back to reality* Mom: [with slight attitude] Well, I have 17 more hostess cupcakes. Are you telling me you don’t want them? Me: Um… I mean… I uh… Mom: Oh just trade with someone. Me: *blank stare* Mom: [very animated] What?!?! Me: Well, I appreciate that idea, but the office is a little different than the elementary school lunch table… Mom: [back to calm] You at least liked the goldfish right? Me: Goldfish are good. Mom: Were those REALLY goldfish? Me: No. They were goldfish shaped graham crackers. Mom: Oh. They weren’t even pretzels or something? Me: No… but pretzels aren’t goldfish either. But there are goldfish shaped pretzels. But I like the original goldfish cracker. Cheddar. Or I could just have normal cheese and crackers. Mom: How do you feel about tuna? Me: oy vey. :)

Mom: Christine, did you turn off your funny channel? Me: ***long stare***Mom, that’s not a “funny channel.” It was a movie. Mom: Yea but it was a funny channel. Me: No. No, it was a MOVIE. Mom: But there were the elephants and the lion pictures moving around all funny. Me: That’s the apple TV mom. It’s the screen saver. It’s not a funny channel. Mom: Well did you turn it off? Me: I don’t know. Mom: Go turn off your funny channel. *sigh…*

I rely on massive quantities of caffeine during the week, especially on days where I have to work my day job, after having worked at the bar until 2 or 3am. RedBull (sugar free) and the 16oz Starbucks DoubleShots have been a lifesaver. This week, the day after my bar shift, we had a departmental meeting wherein we discussed warehousing for an hour, and then moved on to our normal meeting topics (budgets, audits, etc.). Super exciting, but I was fighting my eyelids to stay open. In an effort to not fall asleep, I was fidgeting, and taking long blinks, and looking down at my notepad. I wrote things down to stay awake, topics that were being discussed, etc. One solution would be to have the meetings in the morning, right after everyone’s 2nd cup of coffee, instead of at 2:30 when the lunch food coma has settled in for the afternoon and you’ve lost all motivation, especially when sitting in a cold room with no windows. I just looked at my notepad. There are scribbles, a star, a question mark, and random arrows. And then, in the middle of the page, almost illegible, I apparently wrote “not getting anything from Dad”. No idea what that means. I really hope no one in the meeting noticed. :-/ 

A friend mentioned she had a dream about a guy we met… maybe 3 months ago. I said, “woah! that’s a blast from the past!” Because these days, a blast is like 2 weeks really. Sometimes less. We’re so connected all the time, that our sense of appropriate time given to a topic of conversation has also been skewed. Instantaneous disclosure of information leads us to get bored with news and classify it as older news much sooner than probably appropriate. Or perhaps we’re all A.D.D… (or just me) We live in a world laced with constant visual / auditory / intellectual stimuli. It’s only natural for our brains to adapt, and therefore… it’s no wonder we get bored so easily during moments when we don’t have constant cognitive stimulation. We move on much quicker, in search of something that does spark our interest again.  Case in point… I was informed via Twitter that Gaddafi had been captured, then killed. Later, I overheard someone in my office say, “OMG Gaddafi is dead!” I rolled my eyes… that was so 90 minutes ago people…

Washed up dreamer can’t handle reality. Spoiled child likes to make up stories. Spineless. You whine. You don’t get it. Your true colors tempt me to vomit. You both have nothing left to dream for. So you mess with my life, to hide from yours. You’ve made it so clear, you’ve lost all class. You don’t see? She’s a snake in the grass. Someday, you’ll suffocate like the helpless mouse You are. You are forgetting, this is my house. Let me say it again, this… is… my… house. Get out of my house, you washed up dreamer. You will always only be… just a scared little nobody. http://hitrecord.org/records/541867