Dearest "The Sing Off",
Once upon a time I was ashamed to say that I watched you but now I stand tall when I proclaim that I love you, "The Sing Off." When we first met, it was a cold winter and I was very sick and in need of some company. I found it where I least expected it.
At first, I mocked the iridescent shirts of Nick Lachey, the fact that Nicole Scherzinger is judging anyone and the costumes that the "Queer Eye" guys would deem too gay, but then I started to look past your faults to see that Ben Folds' highly technical yet witty remarks made you different from the cabal of inferior singing reality shows. I've also always had a special place in my heart for Boyz II Men, especially Shawn, whose vocabulary extends past the word "dawg". To this day I can sing every word of the heart-wrenching ballad, "End of the Road." I also like that you're self-assured. You never wait for all of America to decide what happens in your show. Most importantly, you're never a douche (I'm looking at you, Ryan Seacrest and Simon Cowell).
I can still remember that sudafed-induced sleepless night when I watched the entire marathon on Oxygen, Television for Women, and found myself surprised when I was rooting for my favorite groups. The a capella aspect of you actually forced the contestants to know the technical side of music, not just belt out one amazing note at the end of the song, a la Mercedes on "Glee", and expect everyone to drool. I can't be fooled by those tricks. I need more substance. You gave me that.
After that marathon night, I thought that the attraction would disappear and I would forget about you, but I missed you. I had to wait a whole year for the next round of talented a capella groups that would capture my attention even more than I imagined. Our meeting was short but sweet. Luckily, you came to your senses and decided to move to a prime time spot for an extended period of time. You even got rid of your biggest fault, that Pussycat Doll, and replaced it with the much more charismatic Sara Bareilles. Well done.
You have grown over your short three seasons into a humble, yet impressive reality show that I'm proud to say I watch.
Love,
Page
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
New Job Jitters...NOT
It's been a week and a half since I started my new job at an autism clinic doing front desk nothingness or "administrative work" as they like to call it. Here's the breakdown of my job:
1. Sit at desk
2. Sit at desk
Ok, that's not actually all that I do, but I would say that "sit at desk" is approx. 60% of my job. The other 40% is split between handing pens to parents to sign their kids in, watching hulu/netflix/megavideo, gchatting, answering phones and looking up dumb shit on the internet. Normally I get really bad new job jitters where I walk on eggshells for a week or two trying not to fuck something up, but I can't really fuck up "sit at desk". This job is ridiculously easy and the pay is disproportionately high (not that I'm complaining) and as an added bonus, two of my close friends work here and have worked here for years. They've told me all the gossip so I know stuff that I probably shouldn't. However, if I happen to get into a tiff with any of the therapists, I am ready at a moments notice with a verbal smack down, Blair Waldorf style.
The other hidden advantage of this job is that it's a great icebreaker. My other jobs have had their own merits when it comes to meeting new people and ice-breakage but people perk up when they hear autism. Let's look at the facts: Autism is super trendy these days. I remember watching an episode of Top Chef Masters and at least 3 of those Masters donated their winnings to an autism charity. Yes, I judge level of trendiness based on Top Chef Masters. It has a certain mystique to it too (as if you needed more reasons than "Top Chef Masters). There's no certain cause or cure and more and more kids are being diagnosed with it at a surprisingly high rate. After cancer, AIDS and heart disease, autism is climbing the charts for "most likely to have a 5k for." People love wearing their 5k for ______(fill in the blank with charity/disease) shirts.
When I utter the words "I work with kids who have autism" to a stranger, I suddenly look like Mother Theresa in their eyes. And even though I am nowhere near the Mother, I think it's pretty Mother Theresa of me to not let them think that I work for a non-profit and am just volunteering out of the kindness of my heart. No. This job pays and the owners are greedy as fuck. I actually think putting "autism therapist" down on my resume landed me my job at the Statehouse. So after I burst the stranger's bubble, I get to talk about how cute the kids are and the funny things they do or say. For instance, my roommate got a marriage proposal from one of the kids she works with. They've decided on a long engagement. Ok so that didn't happen to me, but it's only my second week. I hope a special someone will put a ring on this finger by the end of the month. Am I right, ladies?!
**Correction: a small child with autism just grabbed my butt not one minute ago. Let the anecdote collection begin.
1. Sit at desk
2. Sit at desk
Ok, that's not actually all that I do, but I would say that "sit at desk" is approx. 60% of my job. The other 40% is split between handing pens to parents to sign their kids in, watching hulu/netflix/megavideo, gchatting, answering phones and looking up dumb shit on the internet. Normally I get really bad new job jitters where I walk on eggshells for a week or two trying not to fuck something up, but I can't really fuck up "sit at desk". This job is ridiculously easy and the pay is disproportionately high (not that I'm complaining) and as an added bonus, two of my close friends work here and have worked here for years. They've told me all the gossip so I know stuff that I probably shouldn't. However, if I happen to get into a tiff with any of the therapists, I am ready at a moments notice with a verbal smack down, Blair Waldorf style.
The other hidden advantage of this job is that it's a great icebreaker. My other jobs have had their own merits when it comes to meeting new people and ice-breakage but people perk up when they hear autism. Let's look at the facts: Autism is super trendy these days. I remember watching an episode of Top Chef Masters and at least 3 of those Masters donated their winnings to an autism charity. Yes, I judge level of trendiness based on Top Chef Masters. It has a certain mystique to it too (as if you needed more reasons than "Top Chef Masters). There's no certain cause or cure and more and more kids are being diagnosed with it at a surprisingly high rate. After cancer, AIDS and heart disease, autism is climbing the charts for "most likely to have a 5k for." People love wearing their 5k for ______(fill in the blank with charity/disease) shirts.
When I utter the words "I work with kids who have autism" to a stranger, I suddenly look like Mother Theresa in their eyes. And even though I am nowhere near the Mother, I think it's pretty Mother Theresa of me to not let them think that I work for a non-profit and am just volunteering out of the kindness of my heart. No. This job pays and the owners are greedy as fuck. I actually think putting "autism therapist" down on my resume landed me my job at the Statehouse. So after I burst the stranger's bubble, I get to talk about how cute the kids are and the funny things they do or say. For instance, my roommate got a marriage proposal from one of the kids she works with. They've decided on a long engagement. Ok so that didn't happen to me, but it's only my second week. I hope a special someone will put a ring on this finger by the end of the month. Am I right, ladies?!
**Correction: a small child with autism just grabbed my butt not one minute ago. Let the anecdote collection begin.
Monday, November 7, 2011
My life for the past two weeks can be summed up in one word: chaos.
Here are the stats:
2: job offers
2: jobs accepted
1: tutoring job quit
2: shifts as a foodrunner at a greasy pizza joint
1: shift as a waitress at said greasy pizza joint
23: dollars lost in tips as a result of my shoddy bookkeeping skillz
1: job at greasy pizza joint quit
5: jobs I had at one point in time
5: years off my life trying to decide how I will juggle these jobs
5: hour shifts at my new desk job where I have little to nothing to do but fuck around on the internet (more blarticles!)
1 million: tissues I've used since this damn allergy attack started
4: the number of feet high the trash pile outside my apartment is after cleaning out the attic
3: cockroaches that fell out of the attic
1: small claustrophobia-induced panic attack from the massive amount of shit piled in our living room (which later transformed into 4 ft high Trash Mountain)
...and a partridge in a pear tree.
Here are the stats:
2: job offers
2: jobs accepted
1: tutoring job quit
2: shifts as a foodrunner at a greasy pizza joint
1: shift as a waitress at said greasy pizza joint
23: dollars lost in tips as a result of my shoddy bookkeeping skillz
1: job at greasy pizza joint quit
5: jobs I had at one point in time
5: years off my life trying to decide how I will juggle these jobs
5: hour shifts at my new desk job where I have little to nothing to do but fuck around on the internet (more blarticles!)
1 million: tissues I've used since this damn allergy attack started
4: the number of feet high the trash pile outside my apartment is after cleaning out the attic
3: cockroaches that fell out of the attic
1: small claustrophobia-induced panic attack from the massive amount of shit piled in our living room (which later transformed into 4 ft high Trash Mountain)
...and a partridge in a pear tree.