The Interview

I had my 2nd interview at Big Brothers/Sisters. I really don't want the job, but I'm scratching to get out of foster care, so i'll do about anything...or so i thought. The position at BBBS, is basically a telephone position. I would have to sit in a grey cubicle all day and call the mentors and the families to see how everything is going. BORING. it's not a media job, i so don't want it. but it's also not social work. so i want it. sorta. I was surprised that they called me for a second interview. After waiting twenty minutes, this middle aged, black woman appeared. I got a shitty vibe from her as soon as I saw her. She looked me up and down and did not look interested and she was SUPER GHETTO, yawning and rubbing her face and eyes during the interview. I guess she was not impressed. At my first interview, they asked questions like, what's your weakness. Now, I couldn't say "being late, sleeping at my desk, singing U2 songs in a high pitched voice, and just overall not being interested." So, in a very sincere voice, I said that I have trouble forgiving people that disappoint me. Especially when I enlisted help with a special project, say a PowerPoint presentation. (Wasn't that a good answer -- putting that theatre degree to use!) Now keep in mind I never volunteer to work on anything special, being at work is work enough, and the only thing that I know about PowerPoint is to press 'Esc' once your finished laughing at people's ghetto wedding/prom pictures. I guess that comment was included in my "interview file," cause this yawning heifer so nuf asked me about my made up weakness.

yawning and rubbing eyes Lady: So you hold a grudge? Every time you look at me, you will think, that's the woman that made me wait twenty minutes? yawn

hands folded, slit smile Me: No, this is business. This is a place of business, I would not hold that against you, however I will remember that you asked me that question.

playing with hair Lady: Ha. Ha. That's a good answer.

Bitch.

But for all her unprofessionalism, I will say she made a stunning statement that woke me up.

looking out the window Lady: Why do you jump around from job to job? looking me dead in the eye How come you have not been able to find something and stick with it? I mean what's the point of working one year here and one year there?

slightly stuttering Me: Umm, this job, umm, although not straight social services, is still serving the community in a critical way. silence. waiting for her the say something, or at least look out the window. her eyes are on me. And I think that communicating with all parties involved is a really good idea to keep the flow of communication going.

Huh?

After my bumbling mess, I kinda of stop listening to her. I was stuck on her statement. Why have I spent my 20s jumping from one unsatisfying job to another? Easy money. I can do my job with my eyes closed (often do) but the aggravation just isn't worth it anymore. Now I wish I can bravely declare "So I'm quitting my job!" But I can't. I need the money. And health benefits. I would love to devote all my time working on films and television shows building up my resume, but I can't. I can't afford to do that. But I can look for and apply to entry level television jobs. So that is what I decided to do. Don't get me wrong, I am still looking for a job to rescue me from social work, but I am going to break the cycle of working for third rate social service agencies. I've had it. So I've made a decision. I'm going to withdraw my application at BBBS. Drowsy and itchy eyes is right, what's the point?

Feeling Alive

I told everyone that I was going to blog about my experiences working as a PA on American Idol...true to kristin form, i'm just now getting around to it. in a word, it was amazing. the first day after i got home, i felt awake. even after working 18.5 hours. i felt awake. I was awake. The spirit that lies dormant inside of me actually had a fire under her. The light switch was turned on. Someone was home.


The experiences...well I learned that like theatre, television is extremely competitive. I would be assigned a job, turn to tie my shoe, turn around, and see someone else doing it. WTF!!?!? There were these little gangs that ran together. Notice I did not say cliques. Cliques aren't as menacing as these people. These mo fos were gangs. They would steal shit like scissors and pens so you would not be able to use them. But I got smart about it. On day one, Monday, we were at the Wachovia Center with 20,000 aspiring Idols. There was much to do, and i was dutifully attending to my job of passing out and collecting consent forms. No problem right? Well after about four hours of passing the consent forms out, it was time to collect them from the sections. I look out, and see a gang of four doing the job. I was confused. I did not want to dare bother the EPs (executive producers,) or the guy that hired me, who i was developing a major crush on (of course.) So I stayed up on the upper levels and sat down. I was on my feet for four hours straight, so it had to be ok, right? Nope. See, when I got the job, I was told that "if they liked you," you would be brought on the work the week. Of course I wanted them to like me. Sitting was not a good look, especially for the dark skinned fat girl with the too tight bright red American Idol shirt. I got up and took a page from the gangs. I started doing any job. I went over to the exit and started to help the already fifteen PAs cut contestants blue wristbands. Now, I did not take any body's job, but I definitely 'helped out.' I even tried to get a pair of scissors from a gang member who was holding two pairs. What the hell did he need two pairs for? Of course he said some bullshit about holding them for someone who never showed up. It was cool though, I stood there without scissors and directed people toward PAs with scissors.
You never want to mess with a dark skinned fat girl with a too tight bright red American Idol tee shirt on. She's more sly than any gang.

MY FIRST PRODUCTION JOB!!!!

I got a job as a production assistant for American Idol!!!!!! actually, let me clarify that. i got a ONE DAY job as a production assistant for American Idol Philadelphia auditions. but i still got a job...AS A PRODUCTION ASSISTANT. (shot out to imani, for getting me the job) now you know i have already fantasized about how they are going to be so impressed by my work, that they are going to hire me for the season, and then i'll go on the work at the travel channel on anthony bourdain's "No Reservations," then TLC will be hear about my fantastic producing skills, and i'll be hired to work on "What Not to Wear," then after three years there, (with two emmys under my belt, of course,) i'll begin my illustrious career at the Food Network. Yeah, i got it all planned out. until i wake up in a couple of hours and think "shit, what am I going to wear today?" my pretend life is GREAT! my real life....well, i'm working on it. and this AI show is the first step. i'm a bit nervous. i hope that they have tee shirts that will fit my fat ass. how embarrassing would that shit be? yo! i would wear that thing like a handkerchief, cause this will be the start of something great.

rubbing between the legs....

um ok, i knocked on an unnamed relative's door. why was she all spread out on the bed, no shirt on, talking about, "jimmy kimmel got some nice eyes." when i collected my jaw from the floor, i said, "um really, had'nt noticed." she was all like, " no look at him, LOOK AT HIM!" i closed the door and jumped in the shower....with my clothes on. everything needed to be cleansed. i'll be buying some first aid eye rinse solution tomorrow. what time does that walgreen's open?......

The cover letter i WISH i could send...

Dear Ms Nicodemus-Quinn,

I am sending my resume for consideration for the Education Outreach Coordinator position. I am uniquely qualified for this position due to my extensive theatre experience, which includes touring as a Teaching Artist at George Street Playhouse during the 1999-2000 season. Please hire me. I hate my current job as a social worker at a third rate social service non profit agency. the staff is incompent and the kids are ugly. please get me out of this situation. I promise, promise that I will be the best education outreach coordinator that ever lived. I am not a gossip, luv gay people and working downtown. I really really want to become a producer on tlc’s what not to wear. actually I want to start there, then be a producer on tyler’s ultimate on the food channel. I’m easy to work with, have compassion (it won’t be forced like I do at my current job,) and will make everyone laugh. I just don’t know what else to say. hire me.

here i go with my ways

well to day i got a root canal. im serious about my teeth, so i have no idea, wait i actually do have an idea of why i had to have a rc. i've gotten pretty lax about brushing at night. sometimes i just give my teeth a rub down with a sleep shirt, which is usually last summer's tee shirt. i actually was not all that bad; i was super numb and my denist was cool. great bedside manner. of course it was 800 dollars, and who knows how much insurance will pay for it. not to mention that 1200 dollar cap i got to get. all the while two bills sit on the table waiting to be mailed......keep waiting state farm and aes. my face is still a bit swollen, im icing it like he said to. he asked my some questions about caring for his elderly father. i was taken aback because he was serious about his questions to me. like he stopped an talked to me like i knew what i was talking about, which i did, my damm he didn't do the "your a fat black bitch" routine. instead of asking me, "do you have a job?" he said "what do you do for a living?" unusual. very. see its the little things like that, little subtle things, that is racism to me.

oh JB!

Ahhh, another day. the same ol shit. i'm so lazy. want to lose weight, but can't. i need a will power pill. the fucked up thing is i totally need to lose weight, and i know it (finally,) but i can't seem to do it. start/stop/start/stop/start...........sigh. the only good ray of hope that is that i know that i have a serious problem. oh shit. i never said that before. serious problem. fuck. and here i just thought i had a problem. i'm actually regressing on alot of fronts. i was doing good money wise for a while, but right now i have 440 dollars in my checking and gotta pay bills with that. oh wait. went shopping today. (i have no clothes, none of them fit -- 26 too tight, 28 too tight, but that's all lane bryant goes to -- refuse to wear old ulgy clothes from the Avenue. ashley steward clothes, stylish, but too tight -- remember, can't fit into 26s) sigh. so anyway i have about 335 in my bank account, and i gotta pay insurance, storage, and student loans. i have 107 in savings. baby girl's birthday is coming up june 2nd, and she wants an ipod. oh shit. fuck. i gotta go to the doctor's wednesday night and friday morning. that will be 80 dollars. fuck. breathe, breathe, breathe. i keep telling myself that i am going to "get it together" but shit when! i'm even sick of me. i'm even sick of me. i keep waiting for that great motivator, that great "kick in the butt," that is going to get me going, but so far it has not come. maybe i need to be the "kick in the butt" but that sounds all great and shit, but so far it has not happened. my life is wasting away. but there's always tomorrow to offer a fresh start.right?

the real case note

So tomorrow i have to deal with the retard. re re. that's what i'll call him re re. i'm so mad i just want to keep it in, but i've heard thats not healthly, so here goes. on friday i called re re to set up an appointment to visit with him and his child that he really should not got back in the first place. now re re has two children that are or have been in dhs custody. father of the year canidate right? well re re managed to get one back. a seven year old girl. she's not re re, but after living in the house with him and his ugly ass, equally re re girlfriend, i'm sure she'll become stupid. so anyway i call re re on friday to set an appointment, i also tell him that his five year old son is going to be moved from the current foster home, cause the foster parent can't handle his behaviors. RE RE GOES OFF. now re re is really re re, he st st st ders, and tries to use big words. "This is unbehaviorally un un appeal ing ly in school." so he's all like "this is not my fault! i blame dhs and ysi, your're going to have to a a a accommodate me.... etc etc. So i'm calm, i say "re re (not really, i said his name,) let me explain the way it works..." he cuts me off and continues with his rant. now keep in mind, this niggah LOST his children because of abuse and neglect. but TRYING to be the "social work professional" i did not bring that up, nor did i bring up his drug abuse, or the physical abuse that he inflicted on the kids, or the fact that he is a re re, or that his five year fiancee is one ulgy, re re broad, shit i did not bring up his black ass teeth. i kept my cool. until he started to yell. loud. "re re, re re, i just called to schedule an appointment." he keeps talking about how the kids should have never been taken from him (have you ever heard a five year weighing 26 pounds?) so i put the phone down. i guess it registered in his dumb ass that i was not talking, so i hear him say "hello, hello." i pick the phone back up. "re re it says in the court order that i need to come out and see....." re re interrupts. i'm getting annoyed, impatient. its a fucking raining friday, i gotta pick up my mother from the emergency room (she's ok, just a sore shoulder) my check engine light is on. i can go on and on. but i won't. i can't. cause i'm a "social work professional" i try one more time, " re re..." he cuts me off. i slam the phone in he ear. hard. really hard. i feel fine. Relieved actually. i click on internet explorer. what's happening in the world. my phone rings. its re re's number. "hello!" i say in my usual bright eyed voice. "uh u h uh uh, that was really disrespect ful." i say "ok i need to come out and see junior re re..." this niggah cuts me off AGAIN. and he starts his shit. AND i hear mrs five year fiancee in the background. screaming. please don't let that bitch get on the phone. please. "your yo your ur not a good listener." what the hell are we in, kindergarten???!?!!? listeners? re re probably rode the short yellow bus to his kindergarten "program" (why are all the special education programs, called, well programs?) anyway re re goes on and on. i say "listen i'm going to hang up again.....he keeps on....GOODBYE. i bang on him. WHO THE FUCK DOES THIS DEADBEAT RE RE THINK HE IS?!!!!!?!?!?!?!? I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THAT SHIT. i get paid 844.00 for every TWO WEEKS. do you hear me, every TWO WEEKS. 844.00 pays for dealing with screaming babies, ringworms, crazy judges, lazy lawyers, moody co workers, broken hearted kids, missing parents, violent parents, drug addicts, nut cases, shitty neighborhoods, pediaticatics offices, begging foster parents to take the kids places, medical offices, state inspectors, paperwork, babies throwing up on you, on your NEW BLACK SHIRT, taking kids to family visits, only for no one to show up, consoling kids about their abusive passes... sigh the list can go on on.... so tomorrow i'm going to call re re. and hanging up in his ear i'm sure.

Moles be gone

So today I got myself a thirtieth birthday gift -- I got my moles removed! There's nothing more that says "old black woman" than a bunch of moles, or "skin tags" as my dermatologist calls them. I got them all removed from my chest area and face. I had about fifteen all together. I keep calling my transformation "Swan '07" Swan is from that highly ridiculous, but entertaining show where uglys transform into swans... So that's my new campaign...Swan '07.

At the end of the year, i'll be skinny, with huge ta-tas and plenty of ass...just kidding...well maybe...OK OK that would be my dream...

Things that happen at 4am

Well I did it. I posted a personal ad on yahoo personals. It was 4am on a Saturday night and I was lonely, so that gave me every right...right? This is my "profile:"

As an aspiring writer, this should be clever. So here I am at 4am writing this "profile." Umm...well I'm about to turn 30 and I figure, ok I'm tired, of being alone. So I'm being brave and putting myself out there. I work with families and children but my passion lies in television. I watch a lot of it, especially the Food Network. My love of the Food Network has nothing to do with me being fat. I swear!! I love all types of music. I like people who like to try different things and are patient -- you never know what you may get if wait a little bit...A fault of mine is that I have yet to "let go." I have been a good girl all my life -- it's time for me to have some fun...I don't like to be bothered every minute of the day. If I spoke to you at 11am, I don't need to talk to you at 11:05am. I value the concept of "me time."

So that was it. I did not include a pic, cause...I don't want to put myself on blast. The funny thing about personals is that it's like "they really wrote that?!!" I love the personals that men write... "I'm looking for a God-fearing woman that loves long strolls on the beach..." While they are typing you can almost see them saying to themselves "Yeah, the bitches will love this!" Oh well. It was just a one time 4am thing. Tonight I'm going to bed at 10pm.

Thoughts on the biker party

After thinking about the "biker party" I have come to the conclusion that I was a bit unfair. The people were not all that bad. Actually they weren't bad at all. It was me. I was uncomfortable. It was not ghetto, at least not all that ghetto. See, I'm playing catch up in the social game, so social situations irk me. They make me nervous. Too many men make me nervous (what we dream about is totally different from reality ;) I did not have a good time. As I'm forming my social reality, I've found out that I enjoy movies, concerts, and museums -- that sort of thing. But I can't help to think if I was smaller would I have had a good time? Probably so. it hit me that i'm not comfortable in my own skin. and that's nobody's fault, but my own.

Ruff Riders Biker Party - No i'm not kidding

Ok, so this Saturday my best friend invited me to what was described as a "beef and beer" party. it turned out to be a biker party, but not just any biker party, a RUFF RIDER biker party. instead of writing about the night, i'm going to tell the story through text messages:
6:20pm - Pls talk to me. At a biker party. I'm SO out of place here.
6:35pm - If I did not drive, I would PAY U 2 pick me up.
6:38pm- WHY AM I HERE?!?!?
6:41PM - I came with kamah and aquilla. They are cool, but this ish. Um its given by ruff riders. Yes you read that correctly.
6:53pm - Tears. Why couldn't i have hung around more blk people in college and not effeminate blk men and white girls. Why?
6:55pm- ITS NO AIR IN HERE. I'm abt to take this jacket off. I have a halter on too
7:06PM - It's the gospel according to DMX in this bitch.
7:09pm- I can only take ni**ahs in very small doses. I've o'ded today.
7:24pm- My face has been buried in this phone every since i got here.
7:29Pm - (my friend asked me if I could "hook up" with anyone, this was my response) I don't have a weave plus I'm fat in the wrong places, so...
7:36pm- I hav a girdle on. So uncomfortable.
7:53pm- This is going to rank as the worst moment of 2006, unless I die, and I still think death would be a distant 2.
7:56pm - According to this record, we can get crunk(ed) in da club.
8:10pm- DONE IT'S OVER!!!

i think my mom thinks i'm hot

why else would she follow me around the house in the morning when i'm getting dressed or getting out of the shower? it does not matter what she is doing, as soon as i turn off the shower, she comes. and she just stands there, talking about some ol bulls**t. "you know miss peggie feeds the possums (yes, the environment is going to hell -- we have possums in west philly,) that's why i have to put the trash cans in the garage..." I DON'T GIVE A SH**! ITS 8AM! WTF MAN! so in my nicest voice i say, "um, i'm getting out now." she says "oh." like she's disapointed. when i get out of the shower, I think its clear, i've heard to bathroom door close BUT there she is lurking in the hallway like a perv. soggy towel half wrapped around me, i rush by her, while she continues with her possum/miss peggie story. i get half ready, and head down to the basement cause most of my clothes are there. here she comes. she's off the urban posums, but now she's talking about matt and ann. i don't know matt and ann, never been on the today show, hope to work for the today show one day, but right now i'm trying to move my a** cause it's 9:15am and i'm supposed to be at work by 9. she follows me downstairs, and while i'm trying to look for good panties, she's staring at me talking! WHY? I don't even respond back. i grunt. so it's not the conversation that she craves. it's has to be my body. the only conclusion that i can come up with is she must think i'm hot. when i'm finally dressed, she turns her head, mumbles something about me being late, and starts ironing........

more sightings

man. justice is sooo subjective. was in family court today. lady was suppose to get her kid back. she has come to all the medical and visits at the agency. dhs (department of human services) didnot take her kid, she signed at VPA (voluntary placement aggreement) cause she did not have housing. so she did THINK she was doing to right thing.....well she was wrong...she did not get her baby back...i could not believe that sht. SHE DID EVERYTHING THAT SHE WAS SUPPOSE TO DO and she GETS SCREWED. BIG TIME.

crab legs and shrimp time!

so its another fun filled day sitting in family court. the dark, dank room is filled with the usual- crying babies, pregnant teens, and mothers hollering "I WANT MY CHILD BACK." You can hear social workers saying "well you did not pass the drug test and you missed thirty-one out of thirty-one visits with your children, so...... Welcome to my world -- Family Court, or as we in the industry say "1801 Vine." you hear a lot of sh** in family court; the perp (perpetrator) digitally penetrated the three year old..." "mom stated that she wants she parental rights terminated cause she's 21 and just started to "get her party on..." so you hear a lot of bulls**. but of all the crap I have heard, this has got to be the best. I was sitting in the holding pen (that's basically what it is,) waiting to be called. I'm not one to make small talk, so I was staring at the 13inch television that is mounted to the wall, tuned to ESPN (i never understood that,) then I read some letter about a kid who has HIV (a lawyer was holding the letter face up-- so much for confidentiality.) So my client's other social worker (yeah she got three and is still f/ed up,) said " yeah liz, you should be getting money soon. its the first of the month." you know what this bit** said... "Crab legs and shrimp time!!" CRAB LEGS AND SHRIMP TIME... WTF!??? she said it loud, with a neck roll! it actually sounded like that Crabbb leaggggs and shramp timmmme. in a room full of people. how ghetto is that? HOW GHETTO??!?! and its not like she EARNED "crab legs and shrimp time" its WELFARE that paying that. me, i'm paying for that sh**. every other friday I treat myself to a nice meal. that's just every other friday, before I drop my bills in the mail. but this bit** gets to FEAST on CRAB LEGS AND SHRIMP daily......or at least to the 15th of the month......when her "stamps" run out. where is the justice.....

eating cadbury's chocolate

eating chocolate at 1 in the am...whats in my (or since i live with my madre) her refrigerator? two luna bars and slim fast optima......... ummmmm kristin