I still don't have the social interaction thing down.

The other day, Mr J and I were at a pet store, buying kitty litter. We have two cats, this is a common errand for us.
 
The cashier, so bright and bubbly for a Saturday morning, asked us, “Do you have cats?”

I stared at her, and turned to Mr J. I was lost for words.

He said, “Yes, two.” And continued a small talk exchange with her, as he paid for the bag of litter. As we walked out of the store and towards our car, he asked me, “Why didn’t answer her?”

I told him, “because the only thing I could think of to say was ‘No cats, we’re just perverts.’”

How I Could Have Been An Assistant To A Cult Leader

As soon as I decided to move, I began looking for a job. I found one, but not without first almost joining a cult.

I was browsing a job posting site, posting my resume, and applying for any posting that I found interesting. I saw a position working for a CEO of an international company. It would require a lot of travel, which I enjoy, and met my salary requirements, so I applied.

I got a phone call, asking to schedule a phone interview. This always seems a little redundant. Calling someone to see when would be a good time to call. If I answered the phone, it's a good time. But I wanted a chance to research the company before my interview. So I would know if we would be a good fit. I scheduled the interview for that evening, and started frantically researching.

My interview was to be with Mahendra Trivedi, of the "Trivedi Effect." 

What the hell is the "Trivedi Effect?" 

It's a "healing energy  that only Mr. Trivedi (and his wife apparently) can harness and direct into people to make them better. Sick? This energy will heal you. It will give you good luck. Your hair will be shinier. You'll have a better sex life. And cats will sit in your lap. 

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Mr. Trivedi charges a lot of money for his energy infusion sessions. Sessions that you'll have to routinely have done to keep the effects. Because magic is like batteries? They need to be continuously recharged? 

If you can't get an appointment; you can buy water from his website that has already been transfused with his energy. You can buy wine transfused with his energy. Face cream with his energy. At a certain point, I can't help but snicker, and make semen jokes to myself every time I read about his "energy".

These jokes I began making to myself, suddenly became all too possible, as I learned of the sexual harassment and assault lawsuits against this man by previous female employees. One lawsuit, and I might give him the benefit of the doubt that he's innocent. Dozens of lawsuits, and guilt seems obvious.

What do you get when you combine a narcissistic man with delusions of grandeur and followers? A man with power, who will misuse and abuse the power. A man who has allowed himself to become corrupted by his own greed, and sick sexual cravings. Otherwise known as a cult leader.

I didn't answer the phone for my job interview.

For more information about this disgusting man and his practices, go to this blog:

Purqi

BUT WHY?!?!?!?!

I'm moving to Colorado tomorrow. I've been packing for weeks. Today, Mr. J and some of our family are loading up a moving truck (while I go to my last day of work) and tomorrow we drive to Denver.

While my move isn't a secret, of any sort, a lot of people keep acting surprised by this move. Not sure why. I've been posting to Facebook about it for almost 2 months. and I told most people directly, just so they wouldn't be surprised. The laid plans of Jane's and men...

People have been e-mailing/texting/calling me, panicked, about my move. "Why?" everyone wants to know. Everyone is awfully inquisitive suddenly. "Why are you moving?"

As much as I've heard that question this past week, I would have hoped that I would have a satisfying answer. None of the ones I've given seem to sate any one's need for closure.

Why are you moving?

Well, I've always wanted to move away from New Mexico, go some where I haven't lived before. This seemed like a good time in my life.

Why?

Well, I'm not cemented in my current job, our townhouse's lease is up, and Mr. J really misses his family. (His entire family makes up 43% of Colorado's population. I checked the numbers. Twice.)

Why?

Um... Because that's how human emotions work? Ask Mr. J.

Why are you moving?

To be closer to Mr. J's family and start a life up there. They have a ton of schools up there too. I might enroll after we get settled.

Why are you moving now?

Because if we don't go now, WHEN WILL WE?

Why are you moving?

FUCK! For someone who hasn't see me in person for over a decade, you sure seem interested in my business!

Why are you moving?

Why not?
- Ha! Do you have an answer? Not so easy, is it?

-----------------

There you have it, distant family members and ex-coworkers; my reasons for moving. The bitchy part of me would have said I was moving to get away from you. But that would have been rude, and not even remotely accurate. Distant family members - you live in far away states. Ex-coworkers - seriously, have we hung out even once since we stopped working together? I'm already away from you.

If you’ve ever mentioned carrot cake in my presence, you already know this.

I hate carrot cake. I’ve tried it. I’ve tasted many people’s versions. I don’t like it. Unfortunately for me, carrot cake is one of those foods that when you vocalize your distaste for it, everyone around you reacts strongly.

“What do you mean you don’t like carrot cake?”

I don’t like it.

“Well, have you tried it?”

Yes, I don’t like it.

“But it’s so good! C’mon, have a bite of mine. You’ll like it!”

No, I won’t. If it’s so great, enjoy the fact that you don’t have to share it with me.

“Why don’t you like it?”

No one ever asks me why I don’t like pigs feet. Or grasshoppers. I don’t ask people why they don’t like the taste of pigeon. That’s because the answer will be either, “I can’t bring myself to try it, it sound so disgusting,” or “I’ve tried it, and it just didn’t taste good to me.” People are allowed to have their own opinion when it comes politics, religion and what they think tastes yummy/gross. But that reasoning just isn’t enough for fans of carrot cake.

So every time. I have to justify my antagonist relationship with carrot cake. Which involves a little bit of a lie.

Carrot cake, is not cake. It’s technically a quick bread. (This is true. I haven’t gotten to the lie yet.)  Banana nut bread is a quick bread too. It doesn’t call itself “banana nut cake” though. Because banana nut bread isn’t a fucking liar. Until carrot cake stops calling itself a cake, and calls itself carrot bread I’m not eating it! (That part’s the lie.)

And truth be told, I have to admire the carrot cake. For dreaming bigger than its peers. Carrot bread didn’t want a life like his brothers. Being made by middle aged women with too many cats and too much time on their hands. It didn’t want to only be made when knitters ran out of yarn, and the craft stores were closed. It wanted to be made for special occasions. It wanted to have candles stuck in it, and spit blown on it after a wish is made. It dreamt that people of all ages would look forward to eating a slice, rather than only being eaten because there wasn’t time to make bacon.

Good for you, carrot cake. I still want nothing to do with you. But keep dreaming, kid. Keep dreaming.

No Awkward Singing

It's a tradition in my workplace, that on someone's birthday everyone gets a card and gives it to the birthday girl/boy and eat cake. No awkward singing. Which is nice.

Except, I never know what to write in my card. I mean, isn't that why you can get cards with text? So that the card companies can do all the work for you?! I follow Demetri Martin's lead and write whatever I find interesting at the time.


Lobsters have green blood, just like Star Trek's Vulcans.

Light bulbs make terrible traveling companions.

Toes are weird.


That sort of thing. I'm getting a reputation as the "weird girl" in the office. I just think everyone else lacks my imagination.

But for some reason, I never worried about "butt dialing"...

Now with almost all phone featuring voice dialing, I can't talk about anyone without constantly checking to make sure I didn't accidentally call them. 

I can't be the only two-faced person who talks behind friends' backs, concerned about this. 

Willy Wonka and the Children Factory

The Oompa Loompas achieve that orange glow
by regularly bathing in children's blood.

I know that Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory has already inspired two movies. But I really think a third should be made. A horror-version of the beloved children's story. I mean, why not? Snow White, Hansel & Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, and Alice in Wonderland, have inspired recent horror movies. Move over Freddy Kruger, Jason and Micheal, you've got nothing on the horrors Willy Wonka's got in store for you at his "factory". 

***SPOILER ALERT***

Willy Wonka and the Children Factory will be about a crazy candy maker, who has hidden a Golden Ticket in five chocolate bars being distributed to anonymous locations worldwide, and that the discovery of a Golden Ticket would grant the owner with passage into Willy Wonka's factory and a lifetime supply of Wonka products. The first four are discovered by self-centered, bratty children: an obese, gluttonous boy named Augustus Gloop, a spoiled brat named Veruca Salt, a record-breaking gum chewer named Violet Beauregarde, and Mike Teavee, an aspiring gangster who is unhealthily obsessed with television. The last one is found by golden heart-ed, golden haired, Charlie Bucket.

The following day, the children gather at Wonka's factory and are welcomed inside by the candy maker himself, who gives them a tour through his factory. There, they learn of the unseen workers lurking around the factory; small, goblin beings known as Oompa-Loompas, who work in exchange for a mystery substance. While touring through a room designed as a meadow made of candy, Augustus Gloop is sucked through a pipe while drinking from a river of chocolate, resulting in his body exploding from the built up pressure in the tube. His body is circulated into the river of chocolate. Not long afterward, Wonka unveils a product he's working on; chewing gum designed to replace any need for cooking or daily meals, hopefully eliminating the gluttonous attitude of western culture, which is stolen by Violet Beauregarde. She winds up inflating into a giant blueberry that must be juiced immediately, the Oompa-Loompas sink their fangs into her, to suck out the juices. However once they begin sucking, they can't stop until the girl is completely dry. The tour leaves behind her dry, shrived corpse, as it continues. Before long Veruca Salt falls down a garbage chute, while trying to snatch one of Willy Wonka's specially-trained squirrels used for selecting the nuts baked into Wonka bars after being dismissed as a "bad nut." The garbage chute leads to a furnace where she burns alive. Soon, Wonka reveals one of his products in development; chocolate bars that can be transported to customers via television, which quickly captures Mike Teavee's interest. He escapes to test out the device on himself, only to be shrunken to an millimeter tall. While trying to flag down Wonka for help, Mike encounters a spider web, and is eaten my a spider much bigger than he. Charlie, the only child who has not been eliminated, is offered the position of heir to Willy Wonka's factory. A thrilled Charlie rides in Wonka's glass flying elevator to overlook the entire factory and it's workings. Here he discovers that the secret ingredient in all of Wonka's confectionery is children, usually those abandoned and homeless, picked up from the streets. Charlie flees the factory, vowing to tell the police. Only to find his entire family has starved to death in his absence. For time in the factory does not pass at the same rate as the outside world.

The End.....?

I think the ending leaves a great opening for sequels. What do you think?

**Thank you to Mr J, who helped come up with this idea.