So there's a car made just for women.

Ladies. Gentlemen. Allow me to introduce you to...

... The Honda Fit She's

I just... I can't... No.

This car (produced and manufactured only in Japan) is marketed as a car for women. I'mma go ahead and say that again. A car for women. Because apparently every other car that has been produced for the last century has been for men. I would now like to go through a few of the She's features.

Feature 1. It's called She's. In case you couldn't tell from the color that it's for women. Even the most masculine car (which is... I don't know... A Dodge Ram? I know A LOT about the fellas. Obviously) is not called the Dodge Bro's. 

Feature 2. It comes in two colors. Bubblegum pink and "eyeliner brown."

Because a woman couldn't possibly drive a car in one of those dull colors like black or white because they're so grotesque. (That should be read in the voice of Liz Lemon in that one 30 Rock episode. You know. That one episode. Come on.) Okay here it is. You must listen for the full effect.


I'm so grotesque

Feature 3. The apostrophe in She's is a heart.

Feature 4. It's described as having "Tutti-Fruity" colors in the interior. I don't want to hear the words tutti-truity unless it's describing a flavor of jelly bean. And even then, I really don't want to eat it. Throw it in the no pile. Right next to buttered popcorn and top banana.

Feature 5. The windshield blocks out 99% of ultraviolet rays. This is supposed to stop women from getting those pesky wrinkles that we old hags can't seem to avoid. You know who doesn't have wrinkles?

wrinkle free since '63

If Meryl Streep made it this far without a wrinkle-free windshield and she still ended up like this - I WILL TAKE MY CHANCES.

Feature 6. A "plasmacluster" climate control system that is supposed to improve skin quality. First of all, "plasmacluster" is a disgusting word. Second of all, there is no way that a climate control system improves skin quality. Third of all, what's up with the wrinkle/skin obsession, Honda? Don't make me use my Meryl Streep argument again.

Did we learn nothing from the ill-fated 1956 Dodge La Femme?

The stunning car that came with a pink floral purse to match the car's interior as well as a swivel driver's seat. So as to preserve a lady's modesty. To summarize, the world's image of women is now slip sliding on down back to 1956.

I realize that the Honda She's is only being sold in Japan. And I also realize that Japan tends to have some pretty traditional gender roles for men and women. But I don't care. Women are women. And women don't need pink hearted wrinkle-free force fields around their cars. Cars are genderless. Like tables. Or paper. Or pens.

Wait...

Halloween Costume Predictions MMXII

Now, some of you may not have heard, but it's election year. At least, that's what my morning news routine (eating a bagel and laughing at Matt Lauer) tells me. And with every election year comes a few things:

1. A huge ratings boost for SNL 

2. An obnoxious number of commercials that are meant to mimic the debates. 

3. Political halloween costumes. 

With that in mind, allow me to present, 

HANNAH'S HALLOWEEN COSTUME PREDICTIONS - MMXII 

1. A binder full of women

You know it's coming. And it's coming hard. In several variety. And my reaction is going to be exactly the same every time. "Oh. Ha. You're a binder full of women. Have you been introduced to the 20 other binders full of women at this party? Ha ha. Haaaaaa. So... So. How bout them Tigers?" (The Detroit Tigers are the only thing anyone in Michigan cares to talk about right now.)

The only way this costume could be made awesome is if it's a guy/girl who has an empty binder attached to their stomach and a polaroid camera. And they go around taking pictures of women at the bar and asking them to sign it, then put it in the binder. Wait, is that awesome? Or is that creepy? I think it's awesome. I could be wrong. I often am. 

2. Sexy Big Bird

This is wrong on several levels. But also, kind of awesome. Ask my sister Emily. She has a tendency to take beloved childhood characters or inappropriate historical figures and make them into sexy Halloween costumes. In a good way. Like sexy Fidel Castro. Or sexy Clifford the Big Red Dog. 

Unless we're both wrong and it's not cool to dress like that. Apparently not being able to distinguish between awesome and creepy is a family trait. 

Upon further review, Sesame Street is hella mad about their treasured characters being made into sex symbols. So unless you want the wrath of Frank Oz on you (which I do) don't show up in a sexy sesame street costume. Unless it's sexy Bert and Ernie. I give my full approval for that. 

3. Clint Eastwood and a chair

Okay, now I understand that the Republican Party does not have a large number of celebrity endorsers. As far as I know, the big three are Clint Eastwood, Donald Trump and Chuck Norris. But Clint Eastwood did not have a great showing at the RNC. 

And he got a lot of crap for it.

But I maintain that Clint Eastwood and chair would be the greatest costume ever because you get to bring a chair to every party. My number one complaint at any party is a lack of places for me to rest my weary bones. I would kill to have a chair with me at a Halloween party. And people would be like, "Hey Hannah can I sit on your chair for a little while?" And I'd be like "SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU CAME DRESSED AS A VICTORIA'S SECRET ANGEL, SHOULDN'T YOU HAVE?! You will get nothing. Nothing but the stares of a thousand adolescent boys."

4. Ryan Lochte

Whether he's in the pool or wearing his ridiculous light-up mouth guard with matching light up shoes, the man is easy to impersonate. I will say that I have a lot more respect for him after he appeared in a 30 Rock episode and made fun of himself. At least he knows and accepts what he is. And he's making millions of dollars off of it so... well done sir.

5. Felix Baumgartner

This one is difficult to recreate. If you can pull it off, you'll probably receive many free beers throughout the night. 

6. Honey Boo-Boo

I think most people expect me to hate Honey Boo Boo, but I really don't. The girl tells it like it is.

Plus I don't think the show is the downfall of society that people are making it out to be. If my family had a camera crew following us around while we were growing up, they would see some weird things. This includes me and my brother wearing underwear outside of our pajamas, my family tending to a few litters of feral cats and one particular feral cat living in the walls of our house for a few months. To clarify, I do not mean that he was within the confines of my house. He was living in the drywall. He is now a moderately well-trained house cat. His name is Wally and he would like your attention right meow.

Wally. The horse/cat

In conclusion, everybody looks crazy to somebody. I ain't here to judge Honey Boo Boo. That tiny blonde child and her sisters adore their mom. Each of them say their mom is their best friend. That's more than some people can say. BOOM.




And that's all, folks. My list of predicted Halloween costumes for the year 2012.

I now leave you with a few of my options for a costume. I would like it to be from just long enough ago that it's awkwardly out of date. Options include:

1. Austin Powers
2. Omarosa from The Apprentice
3. Monica Lewinsky
4. Jared from Subway
5. Me dressed as a zombie with Newsweek covers taped all over me. Get it? Because Newsweek is going out of print? This one is timely!

NOBODY STEAL THAT IDEA. I have patents pending.

Some pet peeves I felt like sharing

This post was meant to be more light hearted, but some parts get a little preachy. I promise if you make it to the end you get to see a clip of Maggie Smith being adorable. 

Pet Peeve 1: Adult Banter

Just so we're all clear, I am not yet qualifying myself as an adult. I'm also not qualifying every adult as someone who does this. But a startling number of men and women over the age of 40 seem ready to jump off a bridge at the beginning of every conversation. 

When I worked at a pharmacy, I heard the most depressing conversations. They would start, "Jim you old so-and-so how are ya?!"

And the response is invariably something along the lines of:

- "Oh you know, hanging on."

- "Alive."

- "Well I'm doing the best I can with what I've got."

Like they're resigned to say this and it just comes with age. And there's this sanctimonious little nod that comes with it that says, "ah yes. I see you are also a bitter old man with a distaste for anything happy or optimistic. Now lets go terrify that new teenage pharmacy tech who looks like she's about to vomit all over herself."

Maybe I'm just not prepared for adult conversation.

Pet Peeve 2. People (particularly undergrads) who use elaborate sentence structure when normal writing would suffice. There is a time and a place for fancy writing and your Poli Sci 106 class is not it. 

I remember reading people's papers that would say something like "And, regardless of prior prosperity, whomsoever were to allocate funds to the Democratic Party would likely find themselves the subject of much adoration."

We must remember that somewhere there is a poor grad student who is currently taking three days out of their studying to read our crappy papers. Do them a solid. Write like a human being. 

Pet Peeve 2b. Along the same lines, for the love of god don't write in cliches, idioms or phrases if you aren't 100 PERCENT CERTAIN that you know how they're used/spelled. 

I had an arch nemesis that would constantly make this mistake. Guys, I have an arch nemesis. Actually, I have a lot of arch nemeses. It does not take much. The list includes: 

1. My parent's guinea pig, Curby

There's hatred in those eyes

2. The guy that was texting when he was first in the left turn lane and made everyone miss the arrow except him because he wasn't paying attention.

3. Any other Hannah that I meet. Including the one that was my roommate for two years. Still don't trust her. Even though I live text her when I watch new episodes of Downton Abbey. 

4. The idiom/cliche misspeller/misuser

First of all, the cliche user hated me. I believe this is because I wrote a paper about how the Daily Show is a growing source of hard news for people my age, even though it's a comedy show. Which is just straight up fact, ladies and gentlemen. However, he was very conservative. He circled my thesis statement a million times and wrote "NO" on top of it. Things got real after that. Words were said. 

To make a long story short, his paper used the expression "come to virition" by which I assume he meant "come to fruition" so I circled it a million times and wrote "NO." Oh yeah. I was awesome.

Pet Peeve 2c: On second thought, I don't like when people write in idioms or cliches at all so... I'm gonna forget 2b and just stick with no cliches or idioms in writing. 

Pet Peeve 3: Tip jars at coffee houses

What gives you the right to a tip jar over, say, a McDonalds employee? They get paid a lot less and deal with people a lot crazier. Presumably. 

Pet Peeve 4: People who cross the street outside of crosswalks (particularly diagonally through 4-way stops) SLOWLY. 

I understand. Sometimes you just need to get somewhere. And sometimes this is the biggest gap you've gotten in ten minutes and you just need to go for it. 

But if you're going to go for it then you better be hauling ass. Don't walk briskly for two steps then suddenly begin shuffling slowly along while texting and determinedly not looking me in the eye. I KNOW YOU SEE ME. I'M IN A CAR.

Then again, 20 minutes ago I was weeping softly while listening to Barbra Streisand sing "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" and looking up photos of Maggie Smith as Wendy in Hook. So I'm not certain anyone should be listening to me in the first place. 

Does the woman age BACKWARDS?!?!

The thievery of children. Mostly me.

Oh man my mom will be so ashamed that I've decided to document these stories. Never before have they been published to the world at large.

I have a confession. And here it is. Right now. Here. On this blog. I shall make a pronouncement that you never before thought possible. This is it.

I used to steal stuff when I was a kid.

Was that hyped too much? Meh. Anyway.

So, yeah. From the ages of 5-9 I stole a lot of stuff. And it wasn't a thrill thing. It wasn't one of those, "I'VE NEVER FELT SO ALIVE!!! I MUST STEAL TO CONTINUE THESE ENDORPHINS!!" Come on, I was 5. But I was absolutely old enough that I should have known better. Here's the thing: I didn't care. It's really weird to look back on, because I knew it was wrong but I did it anyway because I felt absolutely no remorse.

That's where my mom doesn't like the story. I think it's because it sounds like the opening lines to a Lifetime special titled, I should have known from the Stealing: How I found out I was raising a psychopath. The child in the special would say things like, "I used to steal from kids all the time. Why? BECAUSE I COULD." Then she shows off her collection of headless Barbies.

You know who stole from kids? Tom Riddle. When he was a little kid at the orphanage.

And we all know how he turned out.

But as far as I can assess from an online test. I'm not a psychopath. Although I do want to go see the movie Seven Psychopaths starring Colin Farrell, Christopher Walken and Woody Harrelson. It looks terrible, but darn it I just can't resist a good Christopher Walken flick.

What was I talking about? Oh. Stealing.

In my wild youth, I stole many items. But four of them come most clearly to mind. Lets list them chronologically.

1.  The small brown plastic dog - Age: 5

In Kindergarten, I used to play with a little farm set with my best friend John-John (yeah we called him that. He might be reading this. What up, John?). To my memory, the dog looked something like this, but even less detailed.

I. Wanted. That. Dog.

I wanted it, so I took it. Except in my tiny little 5-year-old brain I decided that I had to make it the perfect crime, and I wanted to be able to blame it on John-John. Because what if the teacher discovered that the dog was missing? WHAT IF SHE DISCOVERED IT MISSING?! So one morning, before playtime, I got the dog out of the box and put it in my sock. Because otherwise the outline of the dog would show in my pocket, RIGHT?!

And when John-John and I sat down to play with the farm, I made sure that I was the first to say "HEY! Where did the dog go?" I narrowed my eyes, menacingly and hissed at him, "Where did you put it?!" He obviously had no idea and he started to explain himself but I acted all put out and mad at him and I told everyone I knew that he stole it.

I do feel bad about that part. Sorry John-John.

2. The Coin - Age 7

Anyone heard of the American Silver Eagle coin? It was minted in 1986 and it's worth one dollar. But it's really big and I had never seen anything like it when I was seven.

So one day, I was over at my friend Veronica's house (Veronica might also be reading this. Hi Veronica. Sorry about the coin.) She had this coin sitting on her desk. If I recall correctly, I asked her about it and she seemed pretty ambivalent. Or I might just be saying that to make myself feel better. Aaaaand I took the coin. I think I just put it in my pocket.

The story does not end here. Once again, my young brain went into overdrive because I convinced myself that without a brilliant plan, my parents would suspect this new coin in my collection and make me return in. So... I put a ridiculous plan into motion.

I waited until my mom came home (I think it was my mom... I don't remember which family member) and I took the coin out to the front yard and put it in the dirt under the bushes. Then I pretended to dig it up in front of her. I put on this surprised voice and was like, "Oh! A coin! HowEVER did this get here? Well I'll just keep it then..."

I'm pretty sure my Mom didn't even hear me say that. But my tiny conscience was soothed.

I also feel bad about this one. Veronica, (if you're reading this) in my defense I forgot all about this until I found the coin a few years ago. Let me know if you want it. I assume it's somewhere in my parent's house.

3. The shark tooth - Age 8

This one is the closest to actual stealing. Who remembers the Discovery Store? Or is it still open? Or was it just one store in Oakbrook Mall?

Whatever. It was the type of store that would have one of those electricity balls that makes your hair stand on end. And robotic cats. And.. I don't know. Marbles that are exact replicas of the planets in the solar system.

Well they had a little bucket full of shark teeth. Out of all the things in that store I HAD to have that shark tooth. So, like the other stories, I formulated a scheme. You know those theft detectors they have as you exit a store?

Yeah, those. My little 8-year-old mind decided that they must have somehow placed an anti-theft device on the shark tooth (which by the way there's no way they possibly could) and the alarms would go off if I walked through with it in my pocket.

Now, the Discovery Store left their doors open. So while I was inside, I snuck over and placed the shark tooth in the small space between the door frame and the alarm. Then, once we got outside, I pretended to tie my shoe, so my family wouldn't be suspicious, and I picked it up from the outside.

The perfect crime.

4. The grapes from Hobby Lobby - Age 9

I'm becoming self-conscious about my potential childhood psychopathy, so I'll make this last one quick.

I went to Hobby Lobby with my... Dad? I think. And I saw those fake grapes that are always there for some reason. I decided that I needed them.

 

 

So the next time we went to Hobby Lobby, I was prepared. I put a Ziploc in my pocket to put the grapes in. So that if my dad or a cashier made me turn out my pockets for some reason it would just look like I had brought a little grape snack to Hobby Lobby. 

Overall, not so proud of my thievery days. But it makes for some pretty good stories.

 I will leave you with this thought. It's about TV, because that's all I think about:

Ladies, go watch The Mindy Project.

Fellas, go watch Bob's Burgers. Ladies, you should watch it too.

The Steel Magnolias Drinking Game

Alright everyone CALM DOWN.

I understand that for some people, Steel Magnolias is sacrosanct (Just realized it isn't spelled "sacrosaint." Embarrassing.) But lets all just get on board with the fact that the movie is a bit ridiculous. I love it to the point of obsession, but one of the most featured characters is Dolly Parton. So... I think we can all get off our high horses and get onto our more reasonably-sized miniature ponies.

Also, I know that the movie is based on a play which I'm sure is much less ridiculous. Unfortunately, I only saw the live play once. And it was at my sister Emily's high school play - a York High School production.

York High School: Home of the Dukes of York. That is not a made up mascot.

"Fear the Monocle." Sigh... memories. 

The things I remember from Emily's performance in Steel Magnolias:

1. My sister played the part of Ouiser, a spunky, rich, bitter yet lovable southern lady. In the movie, she is played by Shirley McClaine, aka the light of my life.

2. At one point, Emily forgot her line. She was supposed to list two annoying things that teenagers do. The first thing is something along the lines of "you have teenagers urping on your shoes" and then comes the other thing. Emily forgot the second thing. She said something like "you have teenagers urping on your shoes and... MORE teenagers urping on your shoes!"

And she was embarrassed and came up to my family afterwards talking about it. My dad said, "yeah but you improvised! No one even noticed! Improvisation is what makes someone a great actor!"

And I was like "Ohhh. I see. Emily is just so great at acting. She's so talented. This is acting. Now I really understand" Like I was such a genius. I had figured out the secret to life at age ten. I probably wrote about it in my journal because YES I WAS THAT AWESOME.

3. End of list.

So anyway, the other day I was watching Steel Magnolias and eating Meijer-brand moose tracks (as one does) and realized that the movie is ripe for a drinking game spin-off.

I felt a little guilty about making this game after I realized that the man who created the play based it off of his real experience with his sister. But... then I decided that this can be my way of immortalizing that play. By making it into a drinking game.

Let's begin!

RULE 1. As soon as Dolly Parton gets on screen you better start drinking. Because I can think of two words that describe that woman's acting style. The first word is "forced" followed closely by "hairspray."

Don't get me wrong, I love Dolly Parton. You kind of have to love Dolly Parton.

Jan Hooks (former SNL cast member and stage mom to Jenna Maroney on 30 Rock) said that when Dolly Parton came on SNL her only rules were, "Look, okay, here's the deal. I won't use any cuss words and I won't make fun of Jesus." And that is adorable.

RULE 2: Drink when Shirley MacLaine sticks her tongue out. Or gets her mustache waxed.

By the by! Good ol' Shirley will be appearing on Downton Abbey as Maggie Smith's arch nemesis.

When I first heard the news I was all

But now I've adjusted and I'm just incredibly impatient for the spring. 

RULE 3: Drink every time Dolly Parton says an "aside" joke that would be totally cute on stage but ends up super awkward on camera. Examples include:

-"There's so much static electricity in this room, I pick up everything but boys and money."
-"Oh, Sammy's so confused he don't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his butt." 
-"Louie brought his new girlfriend over, and the nicest thing I can say about her is all her tattoos are spelled correctly. "

Here's my thing. You can't just take a play and plop it in front of a camera. Just like you can't take every movie and make it into a play. You need to change some things. But instead, the guy who wrote the screenplay (the same guy that wrote the play) kept all these little "aside" moments from the play and gave them to the one woman who doesn't really know how to deliver them. 

Rant over. 

Rule 4: Pour one out for one's fallen bretheren: the armadillo cake. 

Rule 5: Drink when you realize it's Daryl Hannah under those glasses and hair. 

I do appreciate that they made real attempts to make her look homely. There's nothing more annoying than when movies take a hot actress and try to pass her off as a nerd. I'm looking at you, Brittany Snow circa John Tucker Must Die. 

"As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast? "

Rule 6: Drink when Olympia Dukakis makes fun of Ouiser. 

Rule 7: Drink when you realize that Olympia Dukakis also has a part in a great American film I like to call Look Who's Talking. I used to be obsessed with that movie. Also, lets talk about the fact that in that movie the voice of the baby is Bruce Willis. Like... if you wanted me to list the top 10 celebrities I would have NEVER picked to be the voice of a baby, Bruce Willis would be numbers 1-5. Number 6? John Gosselin. 

Well done, Hannah. That was very timely. Everyone is still talking about Jon & Kate Plus 8.

Rule 8: One shot for every "oh god I wanna know WHYYY" that comes out of Sally Field's brassy magnificent trap. 

Rule 9: Drink for synchronized slow hand waving. 

I love it in all its forms:

Rule 10: Finish your drink before the early--90s--slow--zoom--out--with--credits--rolling--over--it finishes. 

Yeah. That's a giant rabbit on the back of a motorcycle.

Remembering 9/11 through the eyes of a 6th grader

Watch out everybody, this post is not going to be very funny. But it was written in response to a friend who wanted to know how I recalled the 9/11 attacks, I think mostly because I was in the 6th grade at the time of the attack. Which is an odd age to be during such a monumental event. For the most part, being that age meant that I could remember everything, but I was told nothing. And so...



My memory of the 9/11 attacks begins with a boy named Nick.

Nick and I were never close. Actually we were hardly even acquaintances. I haven't spoken to him since high school, and I will most likely never see him again. But from now on, he is the opening line to my memorized script that I've prepared for whenever someone asks,"where were you when the planes hit the World Trade Center?"

Nick walked up to me in first period art class while I was carving a leaf-shaped stamp out of an eraser. He was bouncing from table to table, telling everyone that "some guy flew his plane into the World Trade Center in New York."

I thought it was an accident. I imagined it was a tiny airplane. For some reason, my mind went to a Wilbur and Orville Wright "flying machine" made of wood. I figured it must have veered out of control.

I frowned as I looked down to keep carving at my eraser."I hope the pilot is okay," I replied.



He sneered, "You don't even know what the World Trade Center is."

Then the game was on. This is the 6th grade version of chicken. Neither party understands, but both keep upping the ante. It can occur, in some instances, when the really popular girl asks, "do you even KNOW what french kissing is?" And of course you don't. But you immediately respond, "Of COURSE I know. I'm not a baby."

She insists, "Then what is it?"

You can feel yourself getting red so you quickly whisper, "I'm not telling YOU. Don't be gross." And you both go back to playing solitaire on your iPod minis.

"You don't even know what the World Trade Center is."

Of course I didn't. I was eleven. But I pretended that I did. And for the rest of the day I kept pretending. And so did my teachers. Although they seemed more focused on pretending that nothing was wrong.

Second and third period, when the towers started collapsing, teachers ran in and out of each other's rooms. The 8th grade English teacher would flit into our classroom to have hushed conversations with my math teacher. He covered their covert exchange with a clipboard or a sheet of paper. Then he ran back to his classroom, and my math teacher began to cry.

And we were copying equations from the board and filling out worksheets.

I don't blame the teachers for not giving us the details. Like everyone else, they were completely unprepared on how to handle this situation. Plus Junior High is an awkward age. Should we be told? We're 11, 12 and 13. We can solve simple algebra equations, but we also decorate our folders with Spongebob Squarepants stickers.

Ultimately, everyone did what they thought was best. But we still didn't know what was happening.  Occasionally we students would forget, for 30 minutes or so, that today was different from any other day. But then another friend would get called over the intercom. "Your parents are here to pick you up" the intercom would say, "please come straight to the office. Do not stop at your locker."

Halfway through the day, we were asked to put our heads on our desks while the intercom played Lee Greenwood's "Proud to be an American." I caught the eye of one of my friends and we started to giggle. When the song repeated for the third time, she let out a muffled snort. And the teacher glared. We stopped. We didn't understand, but apparently this was a serious event. We put on our best serious faces.

And finally, the intercom told us that we were all to go straight home after school. Don't go to your friends house. Don't go to soccer practice. Go home. Your parents need to know that you're safe.

Looking back, it's amazing that our parents were not kept with up-to-date information on our whereabouts. One quick text, and everything would be revealed. But this was the very beginning of cell phones, most of us didn't have one yet. We were too young.

Of course, when I got home I learned everything. My family sat in front of the TV absorbing information until we went to bed. For the rest of the week, information kept pouring in: lists of the fallen, lists of the missing, lists of what was to blame and who we were supposed to start blaming.

On that first Saturday after the 9/11 attacks I woke up abruptly at 6 am. Four days had passed since I was caught giggling to patriotic music with my head on my desk. I snuck downstairs to see if Saturday morning cartoons were on. I clicked through, but every channel was still full of lists and updates and haunting video footage. Disappointed, I switched off the TV and fell asleep on the couch. After four days, cartoons still weren't on, and I still didn't understand why.

Why the first day of work is the worst day of work

So I started work the other day. My first real job ever. I didn't tell any of my co-workers that it was my first job, but I think they realized it. Probably because when the administrative lady asked me if I filled out my W-4 forms I looked at her for a solid 10 seconds. Then I got uncomfortable and broke out into this goofy smile and looked from her to my boss about 20 times.

My face was exactly like Tom Haverford's:

After a while they both just kind of trailed off and told me to get my forms in by Friday. So... one more day to figure out what tax forms are aaaaaand how money works!

Why the first day of work is the worst day of work

1) Paperwork that you don't comprehend and will never have the capacity to understand

Have you filled out your W-4s and your Y-3s and savings & loans and stock options and insurance and healthcare?

No. I haven't done those things because I'm 22 and I don't know what you're talking about. Please don't stand there and wait for me to fill out these forms. Because I don't know what I'm doing. And unless I can somehow learn to understand them through osmosis, you're gonna be standing there for a looooong time.

2) Not having anything to do

Oh man when your laptop is exposed to the rest of the office... life sucks. There ain't no Facebook surfing for you, no sir. You feel like you need to be doing important things. But you don't know how to do anything yet. So you spend the first day exploring the homepage for the company you now work for.

"Hm, yes. I'm very interested in this press release you guys put out 2 years ago. So interested, in fact, that I'm going to spend the next 20 minutes reading it. Then I'll scroll through the pictures of your company BBQ again."

3) Being afraid to go to the bathroom

This might just be me. But my office is just one GIANT room with lots of windows and bright colors. So when I get up, everybody's watching. I don't want to spend too long in there, and I don't want to walk too weird on my way there. It should be inconspicuous. So I try to walk normal. And pee really quickly.

Unfortunately for me, someone else in my office seems to be on my pee schedule. Without fail, after I sit at my desk for 10 minutes with inner turmoil on whether I should visit the loo, I finally get up and this guy gets out of his chair and walks to the bathroom. Then I have to pretend like I was awkwardly half out of my chair for a different reason.

Rearranging my feet, or something. I don't know.

4) They usually ask you where the office should go for lunch. 

Most people think this is a nice treat. I think it is torture and this is why:

1. They've lived in the city for 5 years and you've lived there for 5 seconds so you have no idea where the closest McDonald's is, let alone normal people food. So anything you pick is not going to be what they want. 
2. You are just trying to get through the day unnoticed. So asking the new person to make a decision that will probably infuriate half the office is just... cruel and unusual. It almost made me want to pick a really unpopular food so that I could just get the hate out in the open. 

Co-worker: "Hey Hannah, what do you want for lunch?"
Me: "You know what I could REALLY go for? Long John Silvers. But if you guys don't have that, I'm not picky. I'm just really craving some day-old shellfish right now."

This was my face when I was asked to pick where the entire office went for lunch.

To conclude this post, I would like to regale you with a (kind of long & rambling) story of going home after work. Sit down, my children. Let me tell you a tale:

"Yesterday, I bought Worcestershire sauce and raw chicken breast (the usual). When the bag guy stared at me for a second too long I panicked and said I didn't want a bag. So I left the store holding raw chicken in one hand and Worcestershire sauce in the other. I was wearing uncomfortable shoes all day so I was also limping. Because of the blisters. When I got in my car I took off my shoes. 

When I arrive at my apt, I got out of my car. I was carrying shoes, my laptop, raw chicken and Worcestershire sauce. I tripped on my way out of the car and made a noise like, "HeyyaaahhhhhohcrapI'mgonnafallnope-therewego." 

Not for the first time, I find myself identifying with a foal

Unfortunately, our neighbor was standing outside my car with a bag of garbage. He saw the whole thing. We smiled awkwardly and I went inside. 

But it was stuffy inside. I went to open a window. First I had to pull open the blinds. I went to open the blinds, and realized the window was already open. So naturally I shouted out to myself something along the lines of "OH IT'S ALREADY OPEN. HAHA YOU IDIOT." Then I pulled aside the curtains. And who was outside my window? Yes. Young garbage guy. Walking back to his apartment after taking out the garbage. He heard me talking to myself. Again. So we smiled at each other again. And I backed away slowly from the window and shame-snarfed 3 brownies. The End."

**editors note: That was NOT the end. Today I got out of my car carrying my phone, my laptop, a panini, this weird french dip sandwich with horseradish and an empty bag of snap pea crisps. Why was the bag empty? Because traffic was long and I was hungry. Don't hate. Appreciate. 

So obviously it was difficult for me to get out of the car again. As I lumbered out, I said to myself "Careful now, Hannah. Lets not be silly." Yes, it was in the voice of the Mad Hatter from Disney's Alice In Wonderland.

Look at 7 min 13 seconds in if you want an example of my tone of voice.

And yes, it was out loud. Because I am nothing if not vocal about my shortcomings. And WHO should bike by at that very moment to witness this whole debacle? OH THAT'S RIGHT. THE VERY SAME NEIGHBOR AS YESTERDAY. I wish I was lying, but he and I seem to be on the same schedule. 

But thankfully not the same pee schedule. 





Fin.