pretty girls and pretty things

As a self titled pretty girl who likes pretty things, I think we have a real find here!

My friend Katrina has an incredible eye for nature, sparkles, and little things that are generally lovely (not a lot of things are genuinely lovely anymore, so that's a big deal in my eyes). These days, she's making hair combs, and she *gasp* asked me to model for her! How fancy!

The Tink - made from dried flowers - $12

The Meadow - made from dried flowers and a faux butterfly - $20

The Butterfly Swarm - faux butterflies - $22

Her etsy shop Flickerbelles (cutest name ever!!!) will be growing in the next few weeks, so keep an eye out! And I will post more of my amazeballs modeling photos as I get them.

But seriously folks, support LOCAL artists!

all i'm asking is for a little...

There isn't a lot of respect [for me] in the work that I do.

My survival job is exhausting, thankless, and - at the end of the day - completely unfulfilling. I often joke that I would get more money and more respect as a stripper, but really... why is it that people in "service" jobs, like salespeople and waiters, get shit on by the general public without anyone thinking twice? When did it become okay to treat the girl who sells you postcards or the guy who makes your coffee like they owe you something. I promise that I, personally, owe you nothing. I'm here to do a job, and not get treated like your slave.

I've been reading Confessions of a Retail Worker at the Daily Kos, and while I'm not impoverished (at all), I make a living wage (barely) for NYC - which is probably double what a living wage is for my friends in western PA - and I have reasonably priced public transportation to get to work, I still feel solidarity for the author. Why? Because there is a HUGE lack of respect - from customers, from managers, and from the 'hierarchy' of high ups that basically don't give a shit what our quality of life is, as long as we bring in the million that we're supposed to for their institution. Yes, I work for a non-profit, which is better than working for a for-profit, big box retailer, but they're both the Man.

What can I do to change it? Nothing.
If I hear another person say, "get a new job!", I might just crawl in a hole and die. It's IMPOSSIBLE to get another job in this city. I've been applying for jobs for a year, and I'm always either told that I'm overqualified or that I have no experience so they won't take a chance on me. How about that for frustrating? Too much education, not enough experience. And remember those people living in the park downtown... the 99% that most of you are mocking on your facebook? Some of them aren't just bored rich kids... some of them are desperately unemployed or underemployed, exhausted New Yorkers who just want a little respect from the extremely rich who don't take the time to look them in the eye when they throw bills at them for coffee/$600 dinners/books that they don't have time to read...

And really, who doesn't want that? I do. Desperately.

Seriously, all I need is one more person, dripping with ugly jewelry, throwing crumpled bills at me and questioning my ability to do simple math and I may just go over the deep end.

Oh... if I may rant for just a moment...
Everyone wants to "go green" and respect mother earth, but the minute it starts raining, they're berating me because we don't have plastic bags. So altruistic until it's not convenient for you, huh?

*sigh*

Meowday babes.

I cannot believe a whole week has passed since last Meowday. It's been busy, between the ever-present rescue efforts, work, and that pesky thing called a personal life, I feel like I haven't had time to think, let alone write. I know what you're thinking though...

Less Talk. Moar Cats.
Ask and ye shall receive...

And yet... I can't stop attempting a belly scratch.
What's wrong with me?

Always funny, always true from cat versus human.

This week, I thought I would piggyback on the new trend of cats doing "invisible" things. Often, these don't make sense, but every now and again, there are a few gems. Behold...

kitten: "GUN, MR PRESIDENT! GET DOWN!"
elder feline: "relax junior... it's just the remote."

clearly.

this is me most days...
halfway between a nap and a tantrum.

if you like those...more here: invisible cats

I hope to give you a post of some substance later in the week. But until then...
love your cats... and each other.

monday is... meowday

I know most people/bloggers/crazies do their cat posting on Saturday (ie: Caturday), but I think that Monday is a way more appropriate day for it. Why? Because on Mondays, my cats are doing exactly what I would like to be doing. See comic:

lazy cat = happy cat

Therefore, Monday is dedicated to them and their infinite laziness.

Thanks to cat versus human, for bringing the lolz, and bringing back the crazy cat lady.

An introduction to human anatomy like never before.

If I answered my door at Halloween, this is what would happen.
However, I just hide inside with the lights off, holding my cats.

Here's to Monday (being over!)

weird... even by nyc standards

This morning, I got on the 2 to come to work, and these were the people in my train car.

Arlene from True Blood

Link

A Klingon

I guess that means it's ComicCon again.

In my normal eavesdropping fashion, I left my shades on, put my earbuds in, kept my music off, stared at the weirdos and listened in on their conversation. Sadly, the Klingon couldn't speak klingon. I know this because Link asked, and then expressed his disappointment by jabbing the Klingon with his golden sword. Arlene was dressed in her Merlotte's tee, signature dyed red hair with bump, and black leather pants. As an avid True Blood fan, I think the leather pants were a poor choice. I don't think Arlene owns pants other than jeans, let alone leather pants. So not her style.

Additionally, while Link and the Klingon were talking about the days schedule and sounding like normal people, Arlene was speaking in her best southern accent, which was not very good, and staying in character the entire time. I applaud her dedication, or late morning drunkeness, but it was very weird.

The best part of the ride though, was when a big guy with a ComicCon badge (I don't know if he was staff or what) got on the train around 116th. He stood next to the door and tried to avoid eye contact with Arlene, Link, or the Klingon.  But Arlene smelled blood and started close talking him as soon as she saw his badge. I couldn't hear everything they were saying, sadly, but it was obvious that Arlene was flirting with him. Then he said the single best thing I have ever overheard in New York City.

"Sweetheart, I may be big, but I'm not stupid."

She looked defeated and headed back to Link and the Klingon. I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to not snicker. The Klingon told her she looked desperate, and I thought that was pretty rich coming from a guy with a rubber forehead, but I guess we all have our limits.

Happy ComicCon!

vacation recovery

Why is it always so hard to come back to work after time off?

It doesn't seem fair, and doesn't really help the likelihood of one returning to work after a break. I admit, I have a problem with this. I am not the sunniest person when it comes to returning to work. In fact, I can be an absolute downer about it.

Can you blame me when sometimes it looks like this in here...

Hades Palace?
Nope... just my workplace.

At any rate... I'm baaaaack.

I took a ton of pictures while we were in Altoona, Pennsylvania (home of the horseshoe curve and most of my extended family) of things that made me giggle.  Here are a few highlights...

Survivor?
Keep on Survivin'

I loved this!!!!! The track list of the single best Destiny's Child album is fully intact, while the disc lays broken and scratched on the sidewalk in the least urban town in North America! Amazing. 

I think Meatloaf wrote a song about this...

I wish I could've gotten the angle where the sky was reflected in the broken mirror. It was gorgeous. I'm a failure at iPhone photography.

There is a joke in here somewhere, I know it.

And finally, the swan and the horsey traveling in their graffiti bathtub. It just doesn't get any better than this, folks.

I'm trying desperately to keep a positive attitude during this short week, but so far it's world-1, jac-0.

Lets all hope for a less rainy, nicer, less meeting filled tomorrow.

the family you choose...

My friend, Ellie, was hit by a cab on Saturday. She's got a broken leg and a broken arm. She's in a wheelchair and basically confined to her Murray Hill apartment. To top it all off, she's over 65 and she looks so much like my grandmother that I can't help but love her. She has a little dog (that I adopted out to her) that she can't care for while she's totally immobile, and I didn't hesitate in taking her pooch and caring for her while she couldn't. Why? Not just because of my obligation to the dog, but because she's important to me, and her health is important to me, and if taking Jess off of her hands for a few weeks helps her to heal, then I'll do what it takes.

This got me thinking that there is something special about New York City where friends are concerned, something that seems to happen no where else, that you actually start building your own family out of the friends you make - and not just friends your own age, but people of all ages who support you that absolutely don't HAVE to. Does that make sense? I've made the most amazing family here... my friends are so understanding and patient - when I'm totally off the wall with work or the critters, and I don't see or speak to them for days at a time, they're not annoyed, because they get it. They're busy too, time doesn't work right here, and days pass without really noticing.

So to my friend-family (framily?) that makes living in this crazy city easier: thank you. I am so lucky to have all of you. You know who you are - the ones that meet for brunch, the ones that care as much about the critters as I do, the ones I don't see as much as I would like to, the ones who seem to know just when to text or email a funny picture or one liner when I'm having a bad day. Each and every one of you makes me feel less alone, and here, in this crazy town, that's something really really special.

I get to see my natural family this weekend too, which is awesome, especially since we're getting to come together for Amy's wedding, and everyone will be sharing her joy.

And getting another weekend away will be super nice. Thanks to Abby, who will watch the critters and the house while we're away, it's a possibility. Framily enables everything.

bluesy rain

Today was so stinking wet in NYC.

I'm being forced to work on a weekend, which is absolutely not my cup of tea, as I hate having to dodge eye-poking umbrellas all day. New Yorkers are demons with umbrellas. I feel like I need a hockey mask to walk down the street.

So do I, Snipes.

Tourists are also hilarious in the rain. It's not so unlike rain wherever they're from, I'm sure, but it seems to make them stupid and panicky. And then they poke me with their umbrellas! When the wind finally takes the lives of the umbrellas, out come the ponchos... and then I can't hold in my laughter any longer.

Anyway, in the wake of such a gross day, I've decided to share an oldie but goodie from a sunnier day.  Found stuck to a cement post in Bryant Park, this little gem made me laugh out loud...

So do I, Chicken.

I assume its a PETA ad, or vegan propaganda, but it the image just knocks me out.  I love this angry hen.

Here's to a sunnier fall!!!