Juxtapose

I know nobody cares to hear me say for a seventeenth time, "I'm almost done with school!" But I am. Seriously, guys, I'm seriously almost done. Seriously. A week.

So.. what's new that nobody cares about? Well, I put henna in my hair last night (well, my mum did, akchewally), and it turned out uber-funky, all wineish-reddish-purple. My head now matches the curtains in my room. I really like it, and I'm not at all worried about it (I'm very anti-dye) because it fades in about 6 weeks anyways, so there're never any roots and it's allll natural. It's made up of bark and hibiscus leaves and schnozberries and such, so I don't have to worry that my hair will start to frizz and break off like it would if I actually dyed it, because it conditions instead. By the way, I sound like a scriptwriter for Pantene. I could go for this...

What else... Oh. I've become a telemarketer. My job description at work, when I was working regular hours, used to be receptionist/medical biller/phone-answerer/banker/office-cleaner. Now that my hours have been severely cut back due to school, I've become an office flunky. I can't complain, because I got a raise no less than two months ago, but still, it's pretty amusing. Like, now, I have become the equivalent (nearly literally) of a telemarketer. I know, I know - how low must we stoop for 8.50 an hour? Well, the answer is - Pretty Darn Low. Relating closely to my new position as telemarketer, I also get to wear a Dora The Explorer suit for an upcoming work-sponsored event on May 15. But again, I can't complain. I love my job, I like our little office, and my boss and coworkers are much fun to work with. We have a good time, and my hours will be upped once school has ended next week, so hopefully I'll be able to get more done than just calling and soliciting donations for Kids Day America. And wearing Dora suits. And being sent out to buy people lunch. heh. "Dignity can be lost, of course, but it can always be bought back with a little green," is what I always say.

Speaking of selling your dignity for peices of printed cotton-weave paper, Mrs. Allen totally burned (err.. "Zing!"ed) me the other day because when I was vacuuming her room the week before, there was, like, this old margarine tub thing on the floor. Thinking that it should have been on the dresser with the fifty other margarine tubs, I put it there. The next week she was all, "You put my margarine tub in the wrong place and I'm blind so I don't know where anything is when you move it and you always have to tell me so I can put it away because I know where everything goes and you don't and I'm blind, so help me!"

Of course, trying to save face, as I always do in the ridiculous situations I tend to put myself in, I told her that I assumed that it went there, but, of course, that was a bad idea, since everyone knows that when you assume things, all it does is make an ass out of u and me. (By the way, my MOTHER taught me that when I was fourteen. She said that she needed to teach me all the fresh things to say that I missed out on by not being in a public highschool. I know. And you thought you knew my mother pretty well, didn't you, wise acre?) So, I got totally scolded by my client, which I actually thought was somewhat funny in retrospect, because she kept saying that it would have been a pretty bad thing if she had not noticed that fifty-first (misplaced) margarine tub with all the other fifty, because if she had needed it, she wouldn't have been able to find it. I mean, if she HAD needed it, not that she actually DID. Like, that specific one. I don't know how she tells this thing apart, what with it being identical to every other margarine tub and all of them empty. Don't ask me. I mean, obviously she didn't need it that badly for a good two weeks, because it was on the floor that long and she never asked me "Where is the fifty-first Special Margarine Tub That Doesn't Go On The Dresser But Looks Exactly Like All The Others?"

Anyhow, me being me and feeling like there's no way something this simultaneously frustrating and exhilarating (while all the while paying very well) could keep up the way it has, by the grace of God, for so long, I always get nervous when I screw up like this, because she gives me a firm scolding, but then five minutes later she's all, "Oookay. So. Next time you go to the foodstore, get the watercress in the green bag and make sure it's fresh." So I guess the missing transfattyacid tub wasn't a crisis. Notsomuch.

So enough funny stories for j00. I'm going to go deposit my checks and study me some history so I can flunk my final on Wednesday.