Lord, Beer Little Miss Sunshine Strength

For the most part, I am Little Miss Sunshine.



No, not Abigail Breslin. I'm not nearly that adorable or that good a dancer.

I am, however, chipper, cheerful and always quick with a smile. So much so that the construction workers at my office actually call me, 'The Girl With The Smile' (highly, highly creative bunch).

However, every now and then -- the sheer asininity of her fellow man makes Little Miss Sunshine want to eat her own eyeballs out of frustration.

So, for no other reason than to help me feel better, permit me to rant a little via a series of open letters:

Dear Sir:

Calling every day is slightly excessive. Calling four times before 12:00 p.m. on the same day? Behavior worthy of a restraining order. Besides, I do not have the ability to make jobs magically appear. If I did, I would create some gloriously overpaid position for myself as pop culture blogger.

Thanks!

Jaime

_______________

Dear Ma'am:

If you can't figure out how to apply for one of our jobs, you're probably not qualified for the job itself. Oh and for the record, going to the correct website makes applying for the position that much easier.

Thanks!

Jaime

____________

Dear Sir:

If you are 17-years-old, you've basically grown up with internet access. You should be able to navigate a website and shouldn't need someone to hold your hand throughout the whole process. You could probably find internet porn blindfolded with a hand behind your back. Let's try to apply some of those skills to the job-hunting process, shall we?

Thanks!

Jaime

______________

Dear Ma'am:

Applying for every job means you're probably as qualified for them as Sarah Palin is to be vice president of the country. I.E. -- Not at all.

Stop applying.

Thanks!

________________

Lord, Beer Me Strength. No. Strike that. Lord, silo-sized margarita me strength.

Lord, Beer Me Strength

Esther has a flat tire.

She was waiting for me outside of my apartment -- completely dejected and flat. Kinda like Katie Holmes' post-nuptial personality. Damn her (Esther, not Katie Holmes).

Josephine never would have pulled this crap.



For the uninitiated, Josephine was my old car and the love of my life. She was a 1998 Mitsubishi Mirage two-door coupe and I loved her. I knew all of her quirks and noises, she was amazing when it came to gas (180 miles on a quarter tank - highway) and she loved driving with the windows down and the music loud.

I named her after Ride On Josephine, a rollicking George Thorogood number and then realized that there were a litany of great songs that were applicable to her (Josephine by The Wallflowers, Oh Josephine by The Black Crowes).

When I drove up to PA, Paps sold her (to a horrible woman who put WalMart rims on her!!!) and I inherited his car -- a 2004 Honda Accord also known as Esther.

I named her Esther because she's the same color as a varicose vein and because she handles and feels like a little old lady/Madonna's most annoying incarnation.

I don't think I have a donut. I know I don't have a jack.

That girl's been nothing but trouble. I want my baby back.

Lord, Beer Me Strength.

Things Making Me Nuts (in a bad way):

- Not being able to find employment. I'm an award-winning, published writer with excellent people skills. My resume may be meager, but what I lack in experience, I more than make up for in drive. I really need a job and I'm willing to do almost anything. Dear God, let someone hire me.

- Not being able to find an affordable apartment. I'd really like to live in a place that doesn't feature an orchestra of sirens and gunshots every night. I'd really like a bedroom that didn't also triple as my kitchen and living room. I'd really like a place Dan and I could call our own.

- Not being able to pay for a wedding. The Hard Rock's cheapest meal option is $100 a plate and they don't allow outside catering. $100 x approximately 100 guests = $10,000. Add to that alcohol, the location, flowers, a dress, a suit, invitations and a litany of other things I can't even begin to imagine right now. My wedding will cost more than my entire life up until this point.

Lord, beer me strength. Preferably PBR or Natty 'cause right now, that's all I can afford.

The 'Lord, Beer Me Strength' List

For the most part, I am a pretty cheerful individual. Chipper, even. So much so that I'm sure people wonder if I am, in fact, under the influence of mood-altering drugs (I'm not).

But every now and then, you have one of those days. Like that piece of popcorn stuck in your back tooth, it annoys you mercilessly. Today is that day and here are my little pieces of popcorn:

+ Organizing Dan's mp3 collection. I offered to do it and will be glad when it's all done, but it's a Sisyphian labor. Every time I think I'm done, there's more music to organize. Making the task doubly vexatious? The fact that I'm anal-retentive when it comes to spelling, grammar and music minutiae. I find myself triple-checking information more than anyone ever should. Lord, beer me strength.

+ The weather. A drop of rain hits the windshield and people morph into morons. Morons who seem to have never even seen the inside of a vehicle before, much less driven one. Lord, beer me strength.

+ and finally, Forever 21 employees and the fact that they have the intellectual capacity of Swiss cheese.

Dan and I are attending a wedding on Saturday. I saw this dress online and figured I'd pick it up for the event. It's cute, it's on sale and if I get it in red, it'll match Dan's tie. I call my local Forever 21 store, located in Exton. The lady in Exton tells me to call their King of Prussia location. The lady at King of Prussia tells to call their sister store (Heritage -- also at KoP) as it is not technically a Forever 21 product (despite being labeled thusly on the website). So,I call Heritage and the charming employee tells me that the dress in question is a Forever 21 product and therefore, not in stock at her store. I am not trying to purchase weapons-grade plutonium. All I want is this dress in a small size and the color red. Lord, beer me strength.