Archive for May, 2007

“Ciara, I think you gave me coffee poisoning.”

“I doubt it.”

“No, really. My tummy’s been upset ever since I had it.”

“Well, I feel fine and I drank the same coffee.”

Pause. “You stil gave me coffee poisoning.”


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I just thought of the bestest, coolest name for a bar. Ready? Are you ready for this?

The Time bar. But it’s not “The Time Bar”. No capital b. The “bar” is not part of the name. It’s simply, The Time. Can’t you just picture people saying “At The Time”? Perhaps a wife starting a fight with her hubby who stumbles in late from the bar:

“What were you doing at The Time? Flirting with floozies again?”

“No! I was drinking at The Time. Shut your mouth when you’re talkin’ to me.”

Eh? Eh? Alright maybe it’s not that cool. But it’s not the worst name for a bar.

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“Ciara, what’s a vicadin?”

“I believe it’s medicine. Why?”

“Alicia Silverstone was on The View today and said she was a vicadin.”

“You mean a vegan?”


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So I had brukfast (my original combination of breakfast and brunch. I know what you’re thinking: Can she really do that? Can she make a combo of a word that’s already, in itself, a combo? Yes. Yes I can.) with Brandi on Sunday at First Watch. Our server took our drink orders, two large orange juices, and asked if we wanted straws. I didn’t have to think about this question. I immediately said yes. But Brandi, silly silly Brandi, said no, and I could see the rage and jealousy fuming from within her strawless soul when she saw that I was enjoying my OJ with a bendy straw. And I have to say that I enjoyed bending my straw a little more often than I usually would. Now if they had swirly straws, I guarantee you the entire brukfast crowd would have seen a Ciara-shaped hole in the wall.

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Ok, so…

Ok, so… the job search is rough. I have applied to about 12 postions in the last 2 months and I haven’t gotten a single call. Nothing. Not a ring. One place said they were interested but I still didn’t get a call. Damnation! I never really had to search for a job before. I interned straight out of college and was hired immediately after my internship because I am awesome  they knew what kind of a worker I was and what my talents were. These places don’t know that. But why can’t they just assume? That would make my life a little but easier.

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Alright. Several things have come to my attention; things that, oh, how do you say, annoy the crap out of me. So, here’s how to stay on my good side, or, get on my bad side. For the latter, you’ll need the ability to run very fast and very, very far away.

1. Stop telling me I have don’t have to get up for anything.  I know I don’t have a 9-5 job anymore. Doesnt mean I’m going to stay out all night and then sleep til noon. Yes, I could get a crap job easily. But I don’t want a crap job. I want a good job and I will wait until I get it. Unemployment $$ is awesome. That’s what it’s for. You’re just jealous that I get paid to watch Montel and eat Cheerios.

2. Put the damn toilet seat down. It really isn’t that hard. And next time I’m left with the last square of toilet paper, I’m going to take all the remaining rolls out of the bathroom and use them for myself.

3. If I am about to beat you fair and square in a game of chess, UKKingMaster2007, don’t accuse me of cheating and then refuse to move. How embarrassing for you. Your rank: 1863. My rank: 1310. And I kicked your ass. Hard. Ha! I hope you sulked over your tea and crumpets. Wanker.

4. If YOU are the one who cut me off on the highway and I honk my horn, don’t flip me the bird. I am a stealth, smooth ninja and a force to be reckoned with.

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So, last Sunday night, probably between the hours of 2 a.m. and 6 a.m., my friend Lizz’s car was stolen from the spot she had parked it in right in front of her building. The spot that her car had been in for a few days because she walks to work and the spot that I have probably parked in myself many a time. The only remains of her car were a few glass shards from when the no-good thieves busted the passenger window. I remember the conversation quite clearly. I was sitting at the airport waiting to pick up my cousin (Hi Ryan!) and I had just gotten off the phone with her. “I think I’ll see if my car will start in the rain,” she said. It’s really a crapshoot with that car. Last time she tried to start it in the rain we started rolling down a slope and the brakes didnt work. At least this time she was between two cars. No more than 5 minutes pass and she calls me again. “Yea, about that. My car’s not where I parked it.”

Wednesday comes around and she gets a call from the cops saying that they recovered her car. Yay! Apparently they actually found it on Monday in KCK, just a few miles from her apartment. But she still has to pay the towlot for those two extra days that passed and they didnt tell her. So yesterday I picked her up at 10 a.m. and for the next 5 hours, we’re running around trying to get all the stuff she needs to get her car out of the lot. Her tags had expired right before the no-good hoodlums stole the car, and she just moved from Kansas to the glorious state of Missouri….so that + that = !@#$$%^$#@!!!

We finally get to the towlot. Let’s be real here. The car graveyard. I bet 60 percent of the cars didnt have wheels. We finally find her car at the back of the lot. It has wheels! yay! The no-good hoodlums took the stereo (didnt work anyway) and kindly left a screwdriver so she could start the car herself. the interior was sprinkled with glass, ear plugs (not lizz’s) and a few packages of grape flavored Swisser Sweet cigars. Grape flavored? I’m guessing these were no-good hoodlum kids.

Part of me (well, 90 percent) wants to hide outside in the bushes at night and wait for those asses to strike again. But all of me would like to see my 25th birthday, so I guess I’ll just buy the Club. And beat them with it.

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