The other day, the hubby and I went looking for a place to live. We went to a nearby popular apartment complex for a tour. Although it was a bit expensive for my taste, the location was perfect, and it was a nice place. We sat down with the manager—who had insisted we rush over as fast as we can, because she wanted to get out of there by 6—and one of the first things she asked us was, “How much do you two make a year?”
We looked at each other, wondering what this had to do with this apartment complex. I knew there was no way she would tell us we didn’t make enough to live there, so we told her how much.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you make too much.”
I was shocked! We make too much to live at this apartment complex? The rent for a two bedroom apartment is one third of their maximum yearly income. That’s ridiculous! I asked why they have such a rule.
“It’s for lower income families,” she explained. “It’s so they can have a nice place to live.”
After we left, Ryan made a comment that seemed so true. “It’s keeping the poor poor.”
I really don’t understand why they have income restrictions like that. I could see them saying, “Sorry, but you don’t make enough,” since we really don’t make that much, and they want to make sure the rent gets paid. Typically, people who make over a certain amount (namely, their cut-off amount) want a nicer place than what they offer.
Can anyone explain this to me? Currently, I’m just frustrated and sick of looking at overpriced apartments.


I got a real job.

That’s right, you read it right. I got a job. One that doesn’t involve the words, “Can I take your order?”

I’m a personal assistant to two real estate agents (brokers? I’m not sure what they are), and so far, I’m bored to tears.

It’s a giant change, going from carrying food to filing papers. Last week, I was constantly on my feet, surrounded by sweaty servers and exhausted cooks, pausing to to converse with my coworkers, exchanging gossip and telling jokes. Now, I sit at a desk all day, playing solitaire, carrying out orders, and occasionally picking up the phone, watching the minutes tick by and cherishing my bathroom breaks. Instead of carrying around an apron full of straws, napkins, and pens, I carry around a purse with two cell phones and a palm pilot—a true business woman!

I’m starting to miss the waitressing life. Dumb, I know. I have this great job with steady pay and benefits, and I miss my old job, one that would only provide about 15 hours of work a week!

I know, I know. I need to stop complaining.

Twilight: the Movie

(For those of you who haven’t yelled at me already for this, here are a few more Twilight rant posts for your enjoyment.


While reading Twilight for the first time about two years ago, the thought crossed my mind that this book would be better as a movie. The writing, I thought, was terrible. The character development, shabby. The relationship between the two main characters, shallow and downright creepy. But the concept wasn’t that bad. Get some good actors and a real plot, and you’ve got yourself a blockbuster.

Tonight, I sat through all two hours of the Twilight movie, painfully aware of how well it followed the book. I expected there to be at least some more character development–or at least better portrayal of the characters–but I was disappointed.

First of all, a note to the makeup people: That shade of lipstick on Edward was no bueno. I know you were trying to make him look more pale by making his lips darker, but the obviousness of the lipstick + the poor eyeliner job = a very feminine Robert Pattinson.

The acting was bad. There’s no other way to say it. I don’t know if it was the actors or the director, but Edward constantly looked angry/constipated, Bella always looked dumbfounded/lost, and everyone else was too peppy to be real. The scene choices, while at first glance appear to be nice and dramatic, just added to the bad acting. The scene in the forest? “You’re impossibly fast”? “Say it. Out loud.”? Ring any bells? I was snorting with laughter at this point.

The choice in music was side-splitting. It sounded like it was straight out of a Spanish soap opera–not to insult Spanish soap operas. Any time a moment was a potentially good piece of film, it was like a cue for the dramatized electric guitar to take any thoughts of tortured lovers and replace them with thoughts of David Bowie, and how incredible he looked in Labryinth. (I kid you not. More than once, when the guitar struck up its sappy music, images of David Bowie in tights were drawn to my mind.)

The adaptation from book to screenplay was actually spot-on, which was the disappointing part. It magnified how stalker-esque Edward, and how ridiculous their relationship, is. Honestly, after speaking to each other about the mysteries of the Cullens for a combined total of a few hours, she’s irrevocably in love with him, and he brings her home to meet the fam. And watches her sleep.

The only characters I even remotely liked were Alice and Carlisle. I would have loved Alice, but everything she said hinted at her ability to see the future. “We’re going to be great friends.” “It’s okay, Jasper, you won’t hurt her.” Even her saying “I’ll see you soon” seemed to be flaunting her special talent. As for Carlisle, the only reason I liked him is because I couldn’t stop looking at him.

Do I regret seeing it? Not at all. I haven’t laughed that hard since the final scenes of Australia. Would I see it again? Not unless forced.


How am I supposed to get a job when every job I apply for requires experience? I mean, you gotta start somewhere. No one was born with 3-5 years of receptionist experience already.


Well, I’m back to where I started.

Two days before school was to start this semester, I withdrew from all my classes. Why? Well, it was going to be a GIANT waste of money. I still don’t know what I want to do—besides be a flight attendant (and I still can’t figure out how to become one! Any help?)—and, starting in May, I’ll be a wife. I don’t want to go to school and work while my husband is doing the same, because then we’ll never see each other. Once he gets his degree and a good job, I’ll probably go back to school.

So now, I’m at the same Mexican restaurant, looking for a new job and wishing I didn’t smell like fajitas all the time.

Meanwhile, I’m planning a wedding. If you’ve never had to plan the biggest event in your life before, let me tell you! It’s a nightmare! So much goes into planning a wedding, it’s ridiculous! So many decisions have to be made about stuff that doesn’t really matter to me. (i.e. I would be happy with a live band, but I’d also be happy with a really awesome playlist. The centerpieces can be whatever, as long as it goes with my theme. I don’t care what food is served at my reception!)

I put off planning, because when we first got engaged, I had 6 and a half long months to put everything together. But now that the wedding is imminent (4 months away! this year!), I gotta get crackin! I need to find dresses, for me and my bridesmaids, I need to take engagements and put together invitations, I need my fiance to give me names and addresses from his side of the family, I need to settle on a location for the reception, etc. etc. etc.

(and while I’m doing all this, I’m desperately trying to find a good job, which seems impossible.)

Happy Anniversary

On Tuesday, I will have been blogging for a year. In that year, I’ve had nearly 10,000 hits.  I’d like to thank my Twilight Posts for this.

In the last year:

  • Got my heart broken for the first time (and the last, I think).
  • Dropped out of school.
  • Got a job at a mexican restaurant.
  • Moved out for the first time.
  • Pulled a handcart with 300 pounds of stuff in it across Wyoming.
  • Moved back in.
  • Started school again.
  • Quit the mexican restaurant.
  • Started working at the mexican restaurant again.
  • Got engaged.

Pretty eventful year, no? And the next will be even more eventful, since it includes my wedding, moving, two births, and trips. 🙂


(This blog is proof I’m a terrible person.)

After stopping at the vending machines on the way to the computer lab, I walked in between a few Charity Guys, shaking jars a third full of petty change, saying, “Feed the hungry!” I felt extremely guilty, opening my Gardettos (a perfect bag, I might add, full of the bagel crisps) and pocketing the few pennies I had left over from my purchase. I would have felt even worse putting only three pennies into the jar. It’s like, “That’s all you can spare, rich girl?”

(disclaimer: I am not rich. I have never claimed to be rich. I only bought Gardettos because they were the only non-granola bar item that was under 70 cents. but compared to the families on the street, I am rich.)

Today in my Philosophy class, we were talking about Utilitarianism. One form of this philosophical theory says that you are not only responsible for the consequences of your actions, but you are responsible for the consequences of your non-actions.

“So,” my professor said, “I blame each and every one of you for the starving children in Darfur.” (or something like that, because I really know nothing about Darfur.)

I guess that’s what planted the seed of my guilt, and walking through the Chairty Guys without donating three pennies just put the nail in my selfish coffin. According to my Philosophy teacher, and all utilitarian philosophers, I should be out there helping the less fortunate every spare moment I have. Forget any of my hobbies or the fact that I’m getting married in six months! (Also, I shouldn’t put any money towards my wedding, besides the bare minimum. If there is an alternative that will benefit more people, I should use the money towards that. So the $2,000 I have for my reception should be donated to Operation Smile or something like that.)

I’ll have you know that every saturday for three hours I volunteer at a pet adoption.

Also, I broke my glasses again today.