02 March 2010

I Can Ruin Rice & Other Funachievements


Being funemployed has opened up a world of opportunities for time-wasting, exploration, and résumé meddling. Here is a quick run-down of things I have discovered about myself in the last two months, feel free to mock me at your will. (Also, I hate lists, but bare with me, it's what I'm working with here.)
  1. I Can Ruin Rice. I can't really explain why; even when I follow the directions to the letter, I somehow manage to mess it up. Now, admittedly, I've only ever tried to make "real" rice a few times, we all know the instant rice packets you can buy are a lot easier. Keeping that in mind, I have a big container of delicious kasmati rice that I like to have with my leftover Thai and Indian food. Every damn time I try to make it, my rice ends up watery. It's almost enough to completely mess up my chicken masala or green curry. Almost.
  2. My Resume Knows No Limits. Given all my spare time and job-hunting, I have a lot of time to inspect and re-write my resume. This has happened easily a dozen times. Sometimes I get exceptionally creative and add hot pink headings and lots of underlining, just to amuse myself with bad design. I never send these incarnations of my resume, but I keep them and laugh at them and stare at my degrees and experience and wonder why the fuck I am still funemployed.
  3. I Am Still Clumsy. My inability to have any kinesthetic sense is not news to anyone who spends more than five minutes with me. I broke my ankle falling down two stairs for the love of God. In the last two months, I can't explain how many trips, slips, and total slap-stick style goof-ups I have committed. Adam reintroduced me to skiing. The two and a half days total days we spent skiing, he was able to witness me getting my ass totally kicked my a sapling, face-planting UP the mountain side, and eventually ending the 2009-2010 ski season with a crowd-worrying yard sale that sent me to the lodge for the rest of the day. My knee still hurts.
  4. I Am A Destroyer of Mobile Telephones. The last cell phone I had before my current one died a slow and painful death. I cracked the outer screen, then months later, I cracked the inner screen. After that, I dropped it while on the treadmill. Ultimately, I flipped it open while walking up the stairs and, being clumsy (see above) it flew from my hands and smashed on the tiled floor. The phone before that was stolen. The one before that may or may not have accidentally been run over after being thrown at the wall. My current phone is working through the last stages of its existence after it slipped from my grasp while holding an armful of random paraphernalia and managed to land squarely in the dog's water dish.
  5. Even Though I Am Funemployed, I Have Little Spare Time. This is not entirely my fault. Some of this is Adam's, some is the computer's and its related job search. Other mysterious time-suckers include (but are not limited to): sleep, alcohol, television, miscellaneous illness, half-finished books, helping my parents around the house, and the like. Regardless of these varied time-suckers, I feel less and less productive each day. It's quite disheartening.
  6. I Know Way Too Many Creepers. Part of me have always known that certain individuals in the periphery of my life possess creepy tendencies. It may simply be because my brain is less occupied otherwise that I have come to meditate on their behaviors and come to the conclusion that these peoples exist. Or, considering my somewhat abstract and unpleasant recent romantic past, these individuals have been, quite unexpectedly, been testing the waters of Courtney's Interest to gauge whether I would be receptive to their advances. (I am not.) I think, however, it is something else entirely. As Krissy and I recently discussed, we seem to attract creepers. Not because of anything other than the fact that both of us are very receptive of different sorts of people as well as very willing to give people plenty of time to prove themselves. Sometimes, we do this to a fault and Krissy ends up getting harangued at a bar by a boy with a 1940s Soviet hairdo and a penchant for punching walls.
  7. I'm Not Really Good At This Blogging Thing. I know plenty of folks seem to enjoy my posts. And I like posting them, but I can't seem to keep on any sort of schedule for posting. Do you really want to read my abstract lists and musings on random events and mishaps? Moreover, who has hijacked my site and is abusing it?

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