TUESDAY MORNING RAMBLING.

May 8, 2007 at 9:36 am | Filed under Y!M conversations, mr wonderful, technicolor lover, the helga manual

Mr Supervisor (rather, Mr Former Supervisor But Still A Supervisor) came up to me (of his own volition, not because I needed help) towards the end of my shift and described me as “volatile” and asked if I’ve been good. That means I flip and flop between irate and calm. Intermittently bitchy agent? More like irascible because someone’s being an idiot. Of course, volatile can also mean I’m explosive (which is a sexy way of putting it). On the other hand, it can mean I’m unstable (I think we already know that).

It’s generally not a good idea for me to have crushes on people who are physically within my reach and whom I come into contact with on a daily basis, if only because I’m a ding-a-ling who has the scandalous habit of acting upon my crushes. My theory is that it comes with my age and that when I eventually mature, I’ll (finally) develop a sense of inhibition. At least I’m crossing my fingers that I will. Maybe when I’m 22.

Which reminds me: why is there nothing monumental or defining about turning 22? It’s just like turning 8 or 14 and very much unlike turning, say, 1 (because it means I managed to not annoy my parents for 12 months, so they decided not to smother me in my sleep or to leave me in a basket outside some rich spinster’s doorstep who actually hates children and will probably do something horrible to me. Like feed me to mice or give me to the manong mambobote); or 18 (when my folks were more than happy to serve my debutante-ness upon a fluffy pink and silver platter, begging not-necessarily-eligible bachelors to whisk me off to a life of domesticity. There were no takers, though, and I blamed it on the fact that I knew jackshit about doing the laundry, making sammiches or shining black leather shoes back then. So I proceeded to skill myself in those areas of housewifery, and also, to give good head).

So I don’t know, maybe I’ll make something out of turning 22. Something that isn’t asinine or sarcastic, like most of my goals are (my 2007 Game Plan is one exception— I’m dead serious about that). One thing’s for sure: I’d like to have more Me Time this coming year. Or no, not Me Time, since I get enough of that during my daily commute to and from work; just more Quiet Time. I’d like to not find myself in a tizzy come the weekend.

Or maybe what I need is More Time. Okay, so that brings my wishlist to include two things: A Tan and More Time. Also, the complete Nancy Sinatra collection, please. There, three.

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EMOTIONS D’AUJOURD’HUI.

April 26, 2007 at 8:54 am | Filed under breaking up the girl, joyful girl, the helga manual

It’s the unexpected little things that will always make me happy. That, I realized yesterday early evening when I went to our building’s Starbucks (as I always do, when I have a few minutes to spare) to get my pre-shift caffeine fix. A few feet away from the counter, my barista crush looks up, flashes his very D-like braces at my direction and greets me with a “Hi, Helga.” I smile back, throw my money down and give my order. “Starting work?” Small talk, I love small talk. “Here’s your drink, Helga, see you again later,” as I leave.

Nevermind that he still spells my name as Helda.

Also, things like getting a Phase IV right on the first try (you are not Sabre-trained, you are not a travel agent— so yes, what the what is a Phase IV, right. Take my word for it: it’s complicated shit). Victory! Pwned!

And the way my direct supervisor calls all the girls in my batch “sweetheart” (I wonder what he calls the boys, then) and when he says “rock and roll” or “I’m ready to rock, are you ready to roll?” or “is that going to rock? Cos let’s roll” when I’m just about to make like a te-te-terrorist and wreak havoc on all flights from today until June 18. Of next year. Said supervisor also has very D-like braces, but then I think I think all men with braces have mouths that look like D’s.

I’m starting to answer to the name Heather. In real life. I’m not sure how I feel about this.

Today was a horrible day at work. And I survived. But just barely.

Michael: Angel bailed me out.
James: Angel?
Michael: Well, actually, Angel bailed you out.
James: Me?
Michael: Yeah, I told the police I was you.
[James gawks in disbelief]
Michael: Oh James, it’s just all in fun. And after I told them you had AIDS, they gave me my own room with a VCR and ice cream!
James: Michael, I don’t even like you! I have never liked you!

-Party Monster

Yeah, that’s basically today’s emotions.

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YES, HELGA, YOU _ARE_.

April 25, 2007 at 9:28 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, the helga manual, the internets

I srsly love things that tell me what or who I am. Also, Wordpress is a douchebag (or maybe I’m just an idiot)— it won’t let me directly copy and paste the widget code aka embed the script; but because I love this meme so much, I went ahead and prntscrned all the frames and made my own gif. Awezome.

It’s been years since I last animated anything, so really, is there an option to not optimize gifs when saving? (And why can’t I find that option?) Cos it totally compromises the image quality.

I’m surprised, though, that I fell into the Nice N Cheesy category instead of Touchy Feely. But not rly. I guess it just shows that I’m beginning to differentiate between lust and love, and separate (at least) the ideas of them. If that’s a good thing or not, I have yet to find out.

Second day taking in calls and I swear, I’m gonna pwn this bitch. American business folks booking business trips are easy to talk to— they’re not irate, they’re oddly very grateful, they talk fast, and they’re willing to hold. It’s just the non-talk processes that kill me. My fingers hurt from pounding too hard on the keyboard. Also, I’m starting to refer to the asterisk as ‘display’. And it’s not a 0, it’s a sell.

And that’s it for boring. Honestly, I’m a bit drained. :(

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SO MUCH FOR A&As.

March 19, 2007 at 4:12 am | Filed under the helga manual, the single girl phenomenon

You fall in love with a person because your subconscious likes something about their subconscious, and it isn’t until much later that you discover that the thing your subconscious liked was the fact that this person was built to hurt you in precisely the way you most fear.

-Sarah Dunn

I like passenger seats and long car rides and the comfort of a seatbelt.

I like the words ’strident’ and ‘ennui’ and ‘tachycardia’ and ‘tribulation’.

I like crossword puzzles and Free Cell and sometimes, Scrabble.

I like being kissed on my forehead and being hugged while sleeping and biting your lower lip and my nose rubbing against your nose and cuddling and curling up really close next to you and lazy morning sex.

I like stuffing my mouth with food until breathing becomes a challenge, and then starving myself for the next couple of days to make up for the consumed calories.

I like hospitals and hotel rooms and waking up in strange places and staying up late in stranger places.

I like getting lost— in the city, in moments, in my own cigarette smoke.

I like the smell of tuna straight from the can and freshly-cut grass and laundromats and Coppertone and his hair at the end of the day.

I like the beach and the spray of saltwater on my face and the sting of the midday sun on my skin and feeling the sand grate, and the wind whip, against my body.

I like fries stuffed into my burger and green salads with lots of cheese and chicken swimming in gravy and caramel sundaes.

I like bad reality tv shows and movies that make me go ‘whoa’ and songs that make me hit the pause button while I write down a line or two.

I like noise and comfortable silences and conversations that go nowhere.

I like after-sex silences; after-sex conversations; after-sex cuddling; after-sex fights.

I like getting my heart tangled and realizing I was wrong just a little too late and picking up the pieces and having a bottle of alcohol swat away all emotions.

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

-e.e. cummings

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I GO ‘RAWR’.

March 7, 2007 at 9:20 pm | Filed under the helga manual

Weasel
Genera and species: Mustela nivalis
Collective Term: A sneak of weasels

Description:
Weasel personalities are closely related to badgers and skunks, and are suave and disarmingly charming. With their quick minds and lithe physiques, they might appear to be promising companions, but are notorious for the Machiavellian streak that underscores their personalities. Their behavior is motivated by the fact that it is one of the world’s smallest carnivores, and while lions and wolves may be able to afford a direct approach in acquiring resources, the smaller personality of the weasel requires more devious tactics. Its survival strategy is based on the manipulation of others and it uses its charm as its chief weapon.

Weasels lack the emotional and spiritual maturity found in the larger carnivores. They are masters of chaos and their above average intelligence allows them to think quite well on their feet. Weasels are attracted to unorthodox environments. Their quick minds are able to take advantage of rapidly changing situations and they’ll always emerge with more than their fair share of the booty. They share the same ambitious streak as their cousins the beaver, but their distaste for hard work has them behaving more like their skunk relatives who also resort to chicanery.

They have an uncanny knack of sensing weakness in others and they’ll often team up with more successful animal personalities, gaining their trust and then milking them for all they’re worth. These relationships are completely one sided. Taking what they need, they soon scuttle off to prey on their next victim. As lawyers, they are the essence of what is wrong with the justice system. Interested only in filling their own pockets, they can be seen on late night TV touting their personal injury services.

Sex is an escape for the weasel that frequently indulges in quick wild fixes, and although it has no shortage of willing partners, it favors connections with its favorite targets: badgers, prairie dogs, and wild cats. The weasel lover is earnest and attentive, with an uncanny ability to make its partner feel as though he or she was the only person in the world. Its appealing shyness and disarming vulnerability heightens the illusion. But, since honesty is an obstacle to its quest for sex, most partners remain unaware of this rascal’s true intentions until they’ve met its wife and kids. (WHAT?!?!?!)

It’s impossible to get a straight answer out of a weasel for it simply does not have the inclination to deal with difficult issues, sidestepping them with typical weasel agility. Occasionally though — in a rush of blood — it will reveal a fleeting insight into its heart. But out of fear of exposing its true motives, it quickly clams up and regains control.

Careers and Hobbies
Paparazzi Reporter
Politician Lawyer

Fine clothes Music
Adventure films Photography

Well, that’s a bit negative. I also got this result, which is nicer and pretty accurate. But you know me, always putting forth first the fact that I am a wretched wretched girl. Bitch. Take the test. And define ‘adventure films’, please.

Yeah, ok.

(And SRSLY. Christ. I refuse to be had by a Wordpress plug-in, but this is too much. I give up. For now.)

Men in glasses are HAWT. Yum.

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