Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Cat Party

My sister works at Boscov's. By "works" I mean eats, sleeps, breathes, and loves The 'Cov. She is a rare and beautiful soul that you don't come across everyday. That is why I must share this story.

Gus was working the other night, and a woman came to check her registry list. She asked her, "What's it for?" The woman preceded gush about a new kitten she was getting and told her she was having a party to celebrate its first night home.

Did I mention my sister is an aspiring cat lady?

Gus thought this was so adorable and printed out the registry papers. Her excitement disappeared as she saw crushed look on the woman's face.

No one had bought anything.

Gus tried to console her, saying maybe her friends got her stuff at Target or Walmart. The woman shook her head and told her that her friends are Boscovs' regulars and workers, so she only registered here. Gus told her to keep her chin up because there still was some time before the party, but the woman left the store sad, nonetheless.

She printed her own copy to find that the items the woman wanted were simple cute, and inexpensive cat essentials. So she clocked out and bought as many gifts as she could, including a fancy bed the lady did not register for and beautiful picture frame that said "I Love My Cat." She had everything gift wrapped and told them to ship the package straight  to the woman's house.

She signed the card, "From Your Friends at Boscovs."

That little kitty is lucky to have that woman for an owner, and the world is lucky to have people like Gus. Al Boscov would be proud.

P.S. Word has it that the Cat Party was a success!

Til Next Time,


Friday, September 15, 2017

Perks of Being a Freeloader

I lost of huge part of me yesterday. I just hope my hair didn't clog the drain as bad as it covered the shower walls. Maybe I should start brushing it more...

So yeah, still living at home with good-ole ma and pa. Due to some very unfortunate events, the NYC move fell through twice. Twice. But hey, third times the charm right?
         *insert exhausted laughter and eye twitch here*

 The bags under my eyes, same outfit for three days, and unwashed/disheveled hair, indicate how I am doing physically, mentally, and emotionally.  God bless my parents though. They keep a roof over my head and gluten-free goodies in my belly. I honestly don't know how they put up with my weird, dramatic, Dorito-hoarding antics. For real though, I hoard Doritos. When my dad comes home from the store this is what usually goes down.

"Hey Dad! Ya got anything for me?"
"YEAH! Yogurt and bananas!"
"No... you know what I mean." Because my family members are also sluts for Doritos.
"Oh... yes. *looks around* I put one bag down the cellar," as he passes the second bag towards me.

We exchange winks and that bag goes into my winter scarf bag basket under my bed, even though it's  technically still summer.

Ah, the perks.

Til next time,


Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Reputation p.2

Took me some time to post part two, but hey., ya know LIFE. Always getting in the way of my creativity.

Empathy. That's all I'm asking for. No pity. Just a little understanding of what it's like to have your reputation in the hands of others. The other day a gave a little slice of Taylor's story. Now here is mine. 

I work hard.This is a character trait I'm so thankful my parents instilled in me. Work hard, play hard- life motto right there. If I have a job I like to do it right, and it is as simple as that. Don't believe me? Ask my bosses.

A couple years ago all that credibility was snatched out of my hands before I could even process what was going on. I busted my butt doing a job that wasn't my number one passion, but something I enjoyed, cared about, and took pride in.

Rumors. Speculation. Assumptions. That was all the accusation was based on. I was told, "Your peers have been saying..." THEY were saying. Not me. I lost complete trust in colleagues and people I thought were my friends. Without even getting the opportunity to properly explain my side of the story, the verdict was in, and I was shamed on the grounds of gossip.

Look what you made me do. 

All that hard work was gone, and told it "No longer mattered." I was shocked. I felt used. Taken for granted. Ashamed. My well-established reputation vanished. I can hear the words as clear as day: "If I am ever called and asked about for future employment or character reference, I will have to state, 'I'm sorry, but I cannot say anything positive about this individual. I had a poor incident with her. Then will simply hang up. Oh and by the way, you have mascara running down your face. Please clean take care of that before leaving this room."

Really? The fact that I was balling my eyes out meant nothing, and this person was more concerned about what I looked like so others wouldn't know what just happened.  I sprinted to the room of my best confidant whom truly knows and understands me. After about an hour of crying, I was consoled and told, "Nothing will ever change my opinion of you. You are a genuine and diligent human being, and I will never have anything bad to say about you. You can't let them take that away from you." Of course this made me cry more, but the words did reach me. I worked with him for four years so he wouldn't lie to me .

The anger didn't instantly disappear, but it did over time. I took those negative words and turned them them around. I am not a bad person, and I will not let anyone take my pride away. Words of others don't define you- especially if they are negative. They make you stronger and thicken your skin. I may not have written a song to show the world that I no longer care, but I did write about it. It maybe small, but still a victory in my eyes.

Til next time,