March 29, 2010

mediocre birds

Fact: I need a job
Fact: I need a job in the salt lake arena
Fact: I hate most jobs. I feel they stifle my otherwise free-as-a-bird, life-loving attitude.
Tid Bit: I have no money. This is what I would publish as 'fact,' but I'm fully aware of a impoverished population that would say I am a whiner and an ungrateful nincapoop.
Tid Bit: If Obama doesn't give me back some serious cash from taxes I will hence move to Canada where they have a similar government that he is reaching for and have done it for much longer. I trust longevity.
Opinion: Patriotism is overrated
Disclaimer: I didn't really mean the that
Fact: In this quest for a job, which by the way has left me with an ever declining self esteem rating, I decided to stop looking at 'cute' locations that should have been jumping to hire me upon realizing my charismatic brilliance and a game face that could sell ice to an Eskimo! Anyway, upon stopping to contemplate I thought, "Chelle, what are your viable skills?" This left me feeling tired. So, after all this contemplation it hit me and it didn't tickle when it hit my friends, I have no viable skills! Yes, dear siblings, I know you all have multiple unabashed witty comments to throw out, but please, do remember the fragile state of my self esteem. After a full day of being rejected and applying at jobs I'm sure I'd hate, the worst happened. I started talking to myself... and I listened.
The conversation with myself went like this:
Self: If pride is now a past luxury, why not just apply wherever you want Chelle?!
Good idea, self!
Self: What would you like to do?
Me: Well, coaching the womens soccer team at the U would be fun.
Self: Well, gehead, give it a whirl.

So, dear readers, I hope you can't guess what I did next, but yep, I called the coach of the University of Utah's womens soccer team. Our convo went a little something like this (mind you this is not verbatim, but you'll get the general idea):
Coach: Hello
Me: Hello coach, my name is Rachelle Ballard and I would like to offer my services to you and your team.
Coach: Services?
Me: Yes, I am a student at the U and I would like to work for you and the team. So, can you put me to work?
Coach: I'm pretty confused at what you're asking.
Me: Yeah, I can see how that could happen. Mostly I just wanted to know if you need any help with your upcoming season?
Coach: You want to be our manager or something?
Me: Does that pay?
Coach: mmm, not really.
Me: Nope. Got anything else?
Coach: Afraid not. But thanks for being so willing to help.
Me: Your welcome.
Yep. I have hit rock bottom folks. I have nothing else to say. Do you blame me? Needless to admit, if you have any good, VIABLE job options that you think would suit my summer fancy, do let me know.
Now that you see us in the same line-up it doesn't seem like such a far-fetched idea huh!?

March 24, 2010

Dog Tags

Many young men and young women have bitten the bullet and decided that their well-being and general sanity are second in priority to the call of duty issued by the Big Guy. Despite there being a war going on, a couple of fools still deem it necessary to enlist and put on their dog tags (or name tag, tomatoe-tamata) and faithfully sing the "Lets Get Down To Business To Defeat The Huns song (feel free to replace Huns with gentiles, it may make this a tad more applicable). My dearest friend and comrade Leonard Triggets Wilson is just so one of those tiny tots. I'm super proud of him and I refuse to write a whole heap about it because I'm still meandering through the 'denial' stage of the whole ordeal. I plan to live there happily for...mmm, give or take 18 months-ish. This may shock you ever optimistic blog stalkers, but I have only a few peeps who really get my gizzards, Lenny is just such a pioneer. I'm gonna miss her like crazy, but I'm beyond proud of her. If you missed her farewell talk you missed a lot of spiritual things making nests in your cranium. Fare thee well Sister Blister of my heart, I'm pretty sure those Guatemalans won't get your jokes, but will love your innate ability to eat even the yuckiest of entres.

God Bless Pierre!
On a lighter note, Shirley and I dined at for brunch (right before the first lunch and way before actual lunch) at a new local treasure. BY FAR the best waffles my once naive taste buds have ever been introduced to. I believe they sparked a friendship, my taste buds and the waffles. I hope it's a lasting one and not one solely based on lust, we all know how bitterly those can end. Anyway, if you're ever in the SLC hood, check it out. (looky who got all technologically savvy:) )

March 10, 2010

Snot, tears, and yesteryear's tiny tots

Doesn't that title just summon you right on in? Wale, the thang is Tina, I'm sick... I don't think I love the idea of my immune system putting up the white flag and taking a water break. I mean I understand it works hard, but I just wish maybe it would find a substitute or an alternate when it decides to be MIA, I hope I don't sound too demanding. I hate that I sniffle constantly in class. I'm an infamous sniffle-hater. If I hear a sniffle within ear shot of my general location I immediately bust out my 'eyes of disgust,' very similar to Mr. Potato head's 'angry eyes.'
I am here again with zip photos to share with the good people, for this I apologize. I heard a statistic on the radio that said over 60 somethin percent of Americans don't know how to use their technological gadgets besides the very basics. I am here to say I stand at the top end of the 60 somethin. I would like a nice camera, but then again t'why? I wouldn't know how to optimize its many fascinating features, so as they say in A River Runs Through It, "No man who doesn't know how to fish should ever disgrace one by catching it." Or something distinctly similar to that, I may have butchered it. Anywho, we had to read this story in my journalism class and it was like having to watch Extreme Home Makeover in front of 30 skeptical, pretentious college searing eyes. It's extremely well written and it provokes emotion in such a non-cliche or annoying way. It follows a man in the military whose sole purpose is to go to the homes of fallen soldiers and inform their families. Have you ever even thought that is someone's job? Can you even fathom? I often think about random jobs, like the man who works in the crane near my home. What would it be like to hike the tower of babel every morning to clock in? Anyway, I'm sharing this piece of journalism with you because I love it and hereby want all of you to ruin your technological gadgets by bawling on them. The great equalizer!
(sorry, don't really know how to make it so you can just click on it and go. Need I validate any further on the aforementioned technological war?).

OK! You kids, I sure did get ya, here's some pics I took pics of (so, these are pictures of pictures. Classy? Yes please). These just made me chuckle and reminisce and yet again, tear up. If you never knew Macintosh, the neighborhood candyman (before that sort of thing was creepy) then you missed out on an essential happiness provided by 60 east in H-town. Sweetest man ever who let me and Charmaine watch Gumbi all day and eat every Hostess product we could find in his humble cottage. And the pic of Mel just makes me chuckle every time, sums her up so well I think.

Do all you hurricane-ites remember these days? The homecoming parade days, before the dreadful days of the h-town/3-falls split we were all one, united in our adolescence. We would sit on the curb while the 'insanely cool' high schoolers would ride by on their fourwheelers and trucks. Ah, to be young and not know how horrendous my hair cut was....

mmm...who's that cute curly-haired favorite on his lap?

This pic makes me miss wet n' wild. DISCLAIMER: This photo was not taken at wet n wild. Prob quail lake, back when it was the shiz slash the only literal option.