On Partying Like It’s 1999

Ok, kids, I’m back. I know all two of you missed me real bad. So I’ve been in Oklahoma, of course, hanging out with the high school peeps at that official-rite-of-passage-into-adulthood, my 10-year reunion (and yes, this is really a picture of where I’m from and it really, really looks exactly like that).

Highlights of the reunion included the requisite appearance of a classmate coming back as a member of a gender to which they were not naturally born and doing tequila shots with the quarterback I had a crush on from like 4th through 12th grades. All in all, it was pretty exceedingly awesome, and not in an entirely ironic way.

So, here, in honor of my hometown of Lawton and the Eisenhower Class of ’99, are some of my favorite things about Oklahoma:

* You can drive about 95 mph and nobody cares. Also, it’s not that dangerous, because really, what are you going to crash into? A field of grass?

* Ubiquitous country music. Do you know how hard it is to find a good country station in Boston? The funny thing is that I never even liked country music until I moved far away from Oklahoma and Texas, but now it makes me feel like home.

* Whataburger. Everyone who knows me at all knows I have an unnatural obsession with Taquitos from Whataburger. I capitalize them because, for the uninitiated, they are not really taquitos. They are breakfast burritos, and they were sent straight from God to absorb excess alcohol. Solid Tex Mex would from Salas’ would also be in this category.

* Being the hottest chick there. Ok, I realize this is kind of like being the best bullfighter in Alaska, but when I travel to my hometown I am pretty nearly always the hottest chick there. Have you seen People of WalMart? Yeah, it’s kind of like that.

* Taking friends from the east coast and freaking them out. Between real buffaloes chilling, the Earth’s most disturbing strip clubs, and the sheer volume of pawn shops juxtaposed with artfully placed signs depicting bloody Jesus, Lawton is about the awesomest place ever to take a New Yorker if you want to see their head explode.

* My mama, my daddy, and Jesus. It’s important to remember where you came from. Nothing knocks you down a peg faster than a well meaning church lady asking, “where’s Dart-MOUTH?”. I need that every few months, and I’m always guaranteed to get it.

So cheers to to Ike Eagles, here’s to another 10 years, and to coming back even fatter and balder next time.

Newbury Street: My Own Personal Hell

Lately, in an effort to get out of my pajamas, I find myself frequently strolling down Newbury Street, aka The Eleventh Circle of Shopping Hell. Newbury Street is home to all of those fabulous stores where a girl will most certainly see a $300+ dress that she HAS. TO. HAVE. because she has NEVER. SEEN. ANYTHING. LIKE. IT., regardless of the fact that she has absolutely nowhere to wear such a thing and is rapidly approaching an age at which such silly frocks look ridiculously inappropriate, even (no, don’t say it!) cougarish.

Look, it’s been well documented that your heroine has a shopping problem. A few weeks ago my ridiculously prim and well-heeled friend looked at me with her head cocked and said, “you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear the same thing twice.” I tried to protest that I do indeed re-wear clothing, I just wear different pieces in different combinations with different accessories…but yes, she made her point. And I still remember the look of eureka-mixed-with-horror on my boyfriend’s face when, about three months into our relationship, I came home with yet another shopping bag, and he exclaimed “you’re compulsive!” (well…..yeah….but he loves me anyway).

So let’s get this straight: I’m unemployed, I have no fabulous events to attend, I have enough clothing that you have never seen me wear the same thing twice, I am well-schooled in marketing techniques and realize the fashion magazines are just one big advertisement….and I still cannot stop shopping. A woman like me has no place on Newbury Street, and I sure as hell shouldn’t be clicking on Gilt every other day (I read Influence! I know you are using the scarcity tactic! And it is still working on me! AHHHHHH!).

The fact of the matter is that I am bored. And I am trying to fill a void in my life. And ADD’ers don’t have the best impulse control. But I’d like to say, save for a house, or like, hire somebody to work at my business. And my shopping habit is not furthering any of my life goals. What do you do to control your spending?

Ponyo: Sort of Creepy

Ok, so I realize that if anyone were actually reading this, I’d be opening myself up to a stoning from the hipster crowd by saying anything negative about a Miyazaki movie, but nobody is, so I figure I can say whatever I damn well want to. I checked out Ponyo yesterday, and I wasn’t blown away.

Yes, the hand drawn anime is refreshing, and I definitely enjoyed the fact that the heroine and her amazingly gorgeous sea-goddess mother are both redheads. And, though some critics might disagree with me here, I thought the English-dubbing was pretty good, and that the use of famous voice actors was effective, not distracting (though Liam Neeson as Ponyo’s glam-rock half-human dad was a little off). But there are some plot points that just didn’t translate for American culture (granted, I know nothing about Japanese culture and how they might have played over there), and they were disturbing enough that I left the movie feeling unsettled.

Ponyo is a goldfish with a human face who falls in love with a 5-year-old boy and decides to turn human, too. She is actually kind of a crazy stalker, but she’s a cute anime character so I guess we aren’t supposed to be scared of her. As she comes to find Ponyo, she causes a huge Tsunami that covers the boy’s coastal town. The boy’s mother accepts this, lets Ponyo live in her house, and leaves the two in the house overnight alone together during a huge storm. Fast forward to the end of the movie, and the boy is told in front of his mother, Ponyo’s folks, and a bunch of old people that he must love Ponyo as she is, forever, in order to restore the balance to the universe that will save Earth. What he isn’t told is that if he says no, Ponyo will turn to sea foam and the Earth will still be alright. The movie basically ends with the boy swearing to love the fishgirl forever in a wedding-ceremony-esque declaration between five-year-olds.

Official MBA movie review says Ponyo is like accounting; if you can suspend your disbelief and abandon your lust for logic, you’ll be able to enjoy it well enough. Official ADD review warns you that this movie clocks in at over 2 hours, so those of you with attention “differences” might be better off renting it and watching it stoned (actually, this movie would be pretty awesome if you were high).

I’ll give it 4 stars out of a random 7.

Labor Day Blues

So it’s Labor Day, a lovely holiday for all of the people who have jobs. For the rest of us, that’s about 10% of the working population for those of you following at home, it’s a frustrating “week day” where nobody is going to call us with any job news, because everyone is out barbecuing something. It’s also a reminder that we don’t have anything to be “off” from, and our friends’ glee at not being stuck in cubicles seems callous to those of us who would cut off our right pinky to have a cube to sit in about now.

Last week, I had lunch with another classmate who is out of work. She told me that a third classmate has taken a job as a bouncer at a local bar. I am really not far off from doing something similar, just to get out of the house, if nothing else. Money isn’t really the issue these days; while more of it would be nice, I make enough from my freelance projects to get by. It’s more like…I just need something to do. Somewhere to get go, that requires getting dressed and putting on makeup and feeling like part of the world again. Some of the wealthier people I went to school with (and who am I kidding here, they were all “wealthier”) might be horrified at the bouncer gig, but I get it. At least he’s DOING something.

I think the hardest part of this situation is the lack of control. If I were starving, I could take matters into my own hands and get a job waiting tables or something, and at least take solace in the fact that I was doing the best I could. But at the current moment, “doing the best I can” means landing MBA offers, which means hustling to get interviews, and then giving up a lot of control to other people who will decide if I am a good “fit” or not. It means a lot of waiting around for people to decide my fate and then get back to me. As a proactive person, I am not so good at waiting around for other people to make things happen, but that’s what I’m having to learn to do. So, I guess this is a growth experience for me. Every conversation I had last week ended with a “let’s talk again on Tuesday”, so here’s hoping that tomorrow is a productive day with lots of responses.

This is Amazing

Add another one to the category of “why didn’t I think of (and patent, and market) that?”. The Go Girl is an ingenious device that allows women to pee standing up (yes, you read that right, click on the link to see the video). What an amazing invention! Do you know how many times I have been out somewhere fun and forced myself to hold it for hours because I didn’t want to sit on some disgusting Port-a-Potty and I have inferior thigh strength? (Anyone that knows me well can tell you I have to go every hour, so this is not an easy thing to do). Not to mention the times when I’m in an airport bathroom and all of the other squatters have peed all over every single seat because everyone is too squeamish to actually sit. I am going to order one of these things and start keeping it in my purse. Fan-tastic.

One Less to Love

Y’all didn’t think I forgot about Luke this week, did you? (Ok, Steph, time to stop reading). This week everyone’s favorite supersized reality hunk surprised his not-as-zaftig lady friends by having random family members crash their first one-on-one dates. They all acted overjoyed, of course, but you know they were secretly pissed. Like, I finally get alone time with you and you invite my uncle? Weird!

First up is Tali’s, yes, uncle, along with her aunt, who proceed to ruin the date by explaining to Luke that Tali’s family halfway around the globe is not really going to be down with white boy whatsoever. Then comes Mandy’s parents, who tell Luke that their daughter is straight crazy. Anna’s folks make sure to let Luke know that if they were to get married, he’d be looking forward to months apart while she was overseas on modeling shoots (really?). Then Melissa’s sister drops the bomb (after Melissa has told Luke how much she wants kids) that Melissa has never babysat for her 4-year-old nephew, even though she lives 10 minutes down the road. All this after Luke has spent the entire duration of the show (about four weeks) telling the camera every 5 minutes that he is here to find “Mrs. Luke Connelly”. Um, sorry, bro, but she may not be here tonight.

So of the four dealbreakers, Luke decides that a modeling career that would keep his wife out of the kitchen is the worst. and sends poor Anna packing. She leaves with minimum dignity, sobbing on his shoulder and asking him a tearful “why?”.

I honestly don’t even know why I’m watching this anymore, I can’t really root for ANY of these people. The girls are OK, but Luke is pretty much an immature douchebag who doesn’t seem to have a grip on what really constitutes good wife and mother material (as evidenced by the fact that he picked “crazy”, “not into kids”, and “family hates you” over “model”).The girls aren’t even that dramatic, and now that we are down to the three not-fattest-girls, we don’t even get tearful testimonials about what it was like to grow up huge anymore. My Antonio is so much better.

Re-inventing the Post-It

So, coming up in exactly nine days is…drumroll, please….my 10 year high school reunion! I know that it’s in exactly nine days because I am starving myself in preparation (spare me the lectures, it’s my party and I’ll crash diet if I want to). While going to my reunion unemployed is not exactly the triumphant return to Oklahoma that I had pictured ten years ago, I have a lot of love for the people I grew up with, and I am genuinely excited to hang out with them and catch up. And now, thanks to the modern magic of Facebook, I don’t have to wonder if I am the only one who has put on a few pounds since then (I’m not…I’ve put on about five, and from the looks of things, some of my classmates have put on about 50).

As part of my “get-back-to-high-school-weight-in-one-week” plan, I decided to start taking my medication again (what?! It’s my crazy and I’ll medicate if I want to). For those of you who may not be familiar with Ritalin, it’s like legal speed. Imagine how you feel after one too many cups of coffee, then imagine yourself feeling that all day long. For us ADD’ers, it’s a Godsend, as it is one of the only things that can actually get us to DO anything for more than 30 seconds without flipping over to see what Perez Hilton is up to (or maybe that’s just me). And it has the added side effect of making you forget about food completely (legal disclaimer: ADDventurist in no way condones the off-label use of stimulant medications for appetite suppression, unless you have a reunion coming up or attend a business school where the pressure to be thin is worse than it is in Hollywood).

So I’m back to popping my pills, and lo and behold, I have been productive as a motherfucker. Not only am I rocking through the final touches of my consulting project (which I was averaging about 2 hours a week of actual work on before), but I have been a job-applying, project-pitching, general-networking machine. Since yesterday morning I managed to apply to about eight jobs, have extended, lead-generating conversations with about ten old buddies, AND sell a video project idea….all while chatting with my HS classmates on Facebook constantly about the upcoming reunion. I have been getting great response to everything, which just goes to show you that if you put energy out into the universe, the universe gives you big love right back.

Anyway, the reunion…

So yes, I have to go and tell people that I’m unemployed, but I can also truthfully tell them that I’m in a very good place in my life right now. I have an amazing relationship, family who loves me to the ends of the earth, and no shortage of good friends to break bread with. I also have so much possibility that I am having trouble figuring out which direction to take, which I am so grateful for (I realize that a lot of people out there only have one potential direction, and it’s toward the beeping french fry machine). And to top it all off, I look pretty damn good for gettin’ on 30. So thank you to the universe, thank you for this life. Now, to go do some more crunches…

Back on the Horse

I’m back after a few days on hiatus…I’m sure the three people who read this missed me an awful lot. I still haven’t heard any official word from any of the jobs I’m currently in the running for, so I think it’s time to get “back on the horse” (as we say in Oklahoma) and start applying for a new round. My problem with cold-searching is that most jobs just sound so BORING. It was amazing to me when I started business school to realize how many people get rich by cornering the market in vacuum tubing or fountain pen nibs or baking soda. I realize that to a lot of people, a job is just a job, a means to an end, a way to make money to support their real life, the one they live after 5 pm and on weekends and vacations. I guess I was spoiled by getting to work in politics for so long, because now I just can’t imagine doing a job that doesn’t have me leaping out of bed excited for what the day will bring (and how many jobs do that?). So as much as I desperately want to be working right now, I just can’t bring myself to settle for a job in which I market medical machine components or high-pressure valves (not that those guys are knocking my door down, either).

I feel like the worst thing I could do, for everybody, would be to settle for a job I don’t really want, only to ditch it the second the economy improves and something better comes along. Instead, I’d really like to find something that I could get into for the long haul. I’m not necessarily gunning for the gold watch, but it would be nice to actually begin to build a career somewhere (and you know, buy a house). In the meantime, I’m going to do my best to stick to my guns and find project work until the Mr. Right of opportunities comes along.

New to the Blogroll: The Judgementor

One of my b-school classmates judges and riffs on submitted words. It’s intelligently written (of course): snarky, yet refreshingly deep. I knew I always liked her.

The latest, on “gossip”, discusses our grad school experience in a way that would be funny if it weren’t absolutely true. In fact, true story, I heard about this blog from some girls at a party last night…

Worse Than the Silent Ding: The Re-post

Remember how I mentioned that I was in the middle of the interview process for two jobs as of last week? Make that one.

I got through three interviews (one phone, two in person) for a job at a company that I was really excited about working at. I did everything I knew how to do, including talking to multiple alumni of my program that are currently working at the organization, and hand-delivering (!) hand-written thank-you notes after my last interview (OK, so maybe they think I’m a nutjob….fair enough). When I first arrived at the last interview, I realized that not only were they interviewing several other people for the same job (duh) but that they were actually interviewing us all at the same time but putting us in conference rooms next to each other and then rotating around. This did nothing to ease my nerves (though I admired their efficiency). I felt like I was doing hand-to-hand combat in a suit.

I didn’t hear anything for two weeks. I emailed the recruiter, and got an auto-response back that said he was on vacation and out of the office for those two weeks. One friend at the company told me it took them a month to give him an offer. Ok, I thought, maybe I DIDN’T not get it. Then, last night, all dressed up and on my way to a fancy party, I get an email on my iPhone from my school’s career center (God bless those people). The company has reposted the job!

You know, I’d finally learned to handle the kind of rejection that comes from being in the last few candidates. Ok, so they think I’m good, but they found somebody who was a little bit of a better fit for this particular job. That’s ok, it’s nothing personal. But when a company reposts, it’s insulting to me AND to my combat partners. It’s like they’re saying, “wow, that entire crop sucked. Let’s just start over.” And of course you see it when you least expect to, like on a Friday night when you’re wearing bright red lipstick and gold platform heels, say.

Well, one down, one to go I guess. If I don’t nail this interview next week, I’ll be back to “well, that entire crop sucked. Let’s just start over”.