Confessions

I have some confessions. They will be told in whispers.

(I miss preparing tax returns.)

As messed up as that sounds, it's a true story.
I really do, and I cannot WAIT to start my real job.
And you know that audit competition that was voluntary?
Yeah. We made finals.
So now I have to go to Atlanta the day before Thanksgiving break and do public speaking.

-_-

OH. And WHILE we're whining about auditing: do you know that there are STATISTICS involved in auditing? Yeah. Sampling for audit tests and what not.
Coincidence that stats was also my least favorite class in college?
I think not.

More confessions:

(I listened to Taking Back Sunday today.)

And you know what? I still kind of like it.

(I royally screwed up a sewing project.)

You may have heard me tell you/brag about this dress that I was making. It was going to be orange and seasonal and I was going to wear it to Thanksgiving dinner in my new tights from South Korea.

And Mike gave me such crap for ordering tights from South Korea.
"Some child probably slaved over them. And then they had go to their second job where they play world of warcraft and sell stuff."
Whatever. I don't tell countries how to run their economies.

Anyway- this project: was going to be awesome. I knew it was going to be challenging because of the fabric I was using, but I didn't think it was going to be impossible.

(I was wrong.)

So before I went further tonight, I did some capital budgeting decision making:
Do I continue with the project, have it turn out terrible, and never wear it because I'm so embarrassed?
Or do I cut my losses and focus on something I can do and maybe make a skirt out of the remains?

I opted out.

So I started an entirely different project. It was going great and then the directions were like, "Finish the seams" and I was like "Awesome- I can do that now that I have a serger!"
I pulled out the serger and tried it out. It worked for about an inch before something came unthreaded. And then I spent the next 30 minutes threading and rethreading the machine which really just looks like I'm playing Operation with it because I'm taking tweezers trying to pull threads this way and that.
And then I started crying because it was SO unbelievably frustrating.
Then I couldn't do it anymore and I put it away.

It was just too much fail for one night.

Herpy Herlloween.

Tonight won't make a difference,
TWS

Trains

Here are some comments on I-16:

There is this sign that says "Keep off the median."
That's nice.
It's also stuck in the ground right before this bridge that goes over a river.
True story.

Mike once saw a truck with a bumper sticker that says, "Silly boys. Trucks are for girls!"
There was an old man driving the truck.
Mike lol'd.

People from Effingham don't know how to effing drive.

Do flashers give people the liberty to drive any way that they want? I know that they have magical powers so that you can park anywhere, but seriously- there was this maniac flying down the interstate with his flashers on like he was trying to rush his pregnant wife to the hospital or something.
(Maybe he didn't know that there are ambulances for that.)

I love how police officers hide behind some bushes and take naps in their cars every afternoon.
Seems like an effective use of taxpayer money.

That last one was sarcasm. I think.
According to the Wall Street Journal, "Sarcasm is a challenge for academics and marketers trying to analyze online chatter to gauge public opinion."

And so here I sit.
Skewing the statistics.

And swiveling in my swivel chair,
TWS

College

It's nearing the end of October, which means it's about to be the beginning of No-shave November, which is really just the beginning of a long string of hairy months where guys think it's cute to all get together and not shave.

First, it's No-shave November.
Then it's Don't shave December.
Then Just don't shave it off January.

And pretty soon it's just an excuse to abandon personal hygiene altogether.

Forget shaving February.
My beard makes up for all my insecurities March.
Alright, this is getting itchy April.
Maybe I should shave this off May.
Just one more month until I shave again June.
Just kidding, I'm keeping this beard forever July.
Alas, the summer's heat is going to force me to shave! August
So tempted to shave, but I'm now just too darn lazy September

And before you know it, we're back to breast cancer awareness month.
(Oh, goodness- Ogle at how huge and manly my beard is October.)
I guess the extreme increase in "manliness" is to make up for the world wearing pink this whole month.

Although, when the guys actually begin to shave it off, it can look quite hilarious.
There was this guy in one of my classes who would just shave off a little bit more each day.
At one point, he was pulling an Ambrose Burnside:



And that just makes me giggle.

Another is when they grow their abominations during the summer and then go out and play volleyball every day so only half of their face is tan when they finally shave.

I guess there's just a relationship between how much facial hair a person has and how serious I can take them.

So, of course, I plotted this relationship on a graph:

My tastes undulate.

But that's enough beard talk for today.

It's only arson if you do it on purpose,

TWS

Aaron Rodgers

So I was thinking the other day about how insurance premiums are calculated.
Actuarial values based on risk of certain variables.
Age, gender, type of car, etc.

And then I thought of the stereotype that Asian women are bad drivers.
And THEN I thought- what if that were actually true?
What if certain races DID inherently drive worse than other races?
Would insurance companies be able to adjust their premiums for the different demographics based on FACTUAL data?
Or would they get sued for "discrimination" and "racism"?

Speaking of:



I'm just saying: if it was a white guy in the rickshaw and a black guy carrying it, there would be lawsuits.

Discount double-check,
TWS

Pashion

It all started with a broken treadmill.

I went to work out yesterday, and 2 out of the 3 treadmills in the place were occupied, and the third one was broken. So I decided to go to the stair-stepper instead.

Oh. My. Gosh. I. Feel. Like. I. Don't. Have. Legs. Anymore.

But the thing about the stair stepper was that is had a TV screen, and though I was listening to my music, I watched/read the closed captioning because there was nothing else to look at.
Project Runway was on.
And I really wasn't paying attention, but it's like a reality show for designers or something?

I finished working out and went back to the house. I asked Mike if he thought I could make it on Project Runway because apparently he knows more about the show than I do.

Mike: "No- cuz you don't make your own stuff. If you made your own stuff, I'd say yeah."

Determination happened.

One of my latest assignments at my grad assistant job has been to go to every single college or university website in the nation and "harvest" contact information so that my professors can send out surveys about IS/IT programs.
It's boring because the content is long and mundane, but it's interesting because you get to see what other colleges are like, but it's frustrating because I'm trying to navigate really stupid websites in INTERNET EXPLORER.

Anyway:
So today I happened across some college that does fashion merchandising and what not and I took a closer look. And it sounds SO FUN.
I know GA Southern offers it, but check out these course descriptions at SCAD.

And reading about it all got me thinking "THIS WOULD BE SO FUN" and then it made me wonder why I ever got two degrees in accounting.
Don't get me wrong- I love accounting.
I always viewed college as a place to learn to do something that would get you a job.
And now I'm like, man- I could've majored in something really, really fun.
Less job outlook, but really, REALLY fun.

Then again, I wouldn't have the ballin' job lined up that I have now.
And, also, I didn't know I really liked sewing until after my first year at college.

Another thing is that I am so over school. I do not want to be Hamlet and go to college well into my 30s. Nor do I want to get another entire degree or pay crazy tuition costs for that kind of thing. And I still don't want to live in a big city.

I wish I could just sit in on some classes. Not pay tuition or get course credit or anything. Just sit and learn.

The thing is that I know I'd be REALLY good at it.
And now I feel like it's too late in my life to try.

Sad face,
TWS

Finale

One of the best things happened to me the other day.

I GOT A REAL FULL-TIME JOB.

And if you notice here, our firm doesn't offer auditing services.
Read: I WON'T EVER HAVE TO DO AUDITING AGAIN. EVER.

Except for taking the audit part of the CPA exam.
And finishing grad school.
And that stupid project if we made it to the final competition.

But other than that, audit and I are DONE-ZO.

That's right, boys and girls. I will be working in just tax.
I'm going to be an awesome tax person.
And it will be awesome.

Here are the deets:

- It's in the city where I wanted to work. This is for all of you who suggested I look elsewhere in places far away from Mikeface. Glad I didn't.

- Overtime is required, of course, because of the busy seasons. But they PAY for overtime. Do you know how INCREDIBLY RARE that is at a public accounting firm?

Here are the tails (which are really just more deets):

- It's a very small firm, which I love. I've never wanted to go corporate-Big-4-wear-a-business-suit-erry-day, and I love knowing all my coworkers personally.

- I get my own office. (I can finally hang up my diploma(s) and look legit!)

- As long as I pass the CPA exam by the middle of December 2013, I will be Allie J, CPA.

- And...I don't have to tick and tie any more freaking workpapers!

Your concerns:

"Allie J, you're not done-zo with grad school. How are you going to finish your degree?"

Just one more on-line class, babe.

"Allie J, you have that awesome grad assistant job right now with a contract for the whole year. You can't just quit."

Yes, I can. The department is totally cool with it, and they have a replacement lined up. I've been very useful for the time that they've needed me, so all I have to do is turn in my keys.

"Allie J, you're going to be working in tax. Do you really not have a soul?"

Maybe not. But tax makes sense to me.

I actually told them in the interview that my birthday was April 15th.

That might have been what won them over.



And, yes, I'll do your taxes,

TWS

Voting

A teenage boy is getting ready to take his girlfriend to the prom.

First, he goes to rent a tux, but there's a long tux line at the shop and it takes forever.
Next, he has to get get some flowers, so he heads over to the florist and ther's a huge line there. He waits forever, but he eventually gets the flowers.
Then he heads out to rent a limo. Unfortunately, there's a long line at the limo rental office, but he's patient and gets the job done.

Finally, the day of the prom comes. The couple is dancing happily, and his girlfriend is having a great time. When the song is over, she asks him to get her some punch, so he heads over to the punch table and there's no punch line.

"Off-task",
TWS

Entertainment

Allie J's Movie Review:

Number 1: I watched Breakfast at Tiffany's the other day. Here are my notes:

1. Audrey Hepburn is a real doll, but I honestly thought she was going to put Cat in the refrigerator when she goes to pour herself a glass of milk.
2. I absolutely adore the way her couch is actually a bathtub.
3. Paul is a writer, but he types with two fingers? Really?

Number 2: Anchorman is a really stupid movie, and Will Ferrell is one of the worst actors of all time.
I hold these truths to be self evident.

Yeah. I just quoted a part of the Declaration of Independence.

Number 3: Puss in Boots is one of the most adorable movies of all time. And I happen to know a guy who really looks like the egg. In any case, you should watch it. Especially if you like KITTIES!

Allie J's Book Review:

I don't read anymore.

As for that playlist I promised to you:

I present to you Last Commute, my playlist for finishing graduate school.

If you don't know how computers work, click on the link and press "Play All" on the left.
(If you don't have a Grooveshark account by now, you should because it's awesome.)

Now go draw something or play spider solitaire.
Some of these songs will make you want to take a long walk and watch the leaves fall slowly to the ground.
Other songs will make you want to have a dance party in your parent's closet.

*wink to Biff*

And the petty decisions that you think make a difference,
TWS

Straight Face

Let me tell you about this one time I got yelled at.
It's a true story.

So you know that interview I talked about in my post The Digital Page with the guy who wanted to be snarky about my awesome typing skills?
Ok- so this is one of the on-campus interviews and so it is heavily regulated by administrative people to make sure that students show up on time and that we don't tick off firms that want to hire our graduates.

For the record: my interview started 45 minutes late. But that is just an aside.

So the day before this interview, I get a call reminding me that I have this interview with Barley, Hooplah and Smash, Inc. at 3:00 pm the next day.
(That's not actually a real name for a firm, but accounting firms always have the goofiest names. Sometimes they have the most difficult to pronounce names, so they shorten it to an abbreviation like everything else in accounting. But wouldn't it be awesome if there was a firm with the name Barley, Hooplah and Smash?)

And they leave a voicemail after my adorable, "Hey, this is Allie J, you know what to do" message, of which I'm sure all of you have encountered at some point.
They left a message about the interview but then they also yelled at me by including this pithy "reminder" about how students should have "professional" voicemail messages as to not send firms the "wrong impression".

I don't see what's wrong with it.
There's a greeting, an identification of myself, and concise instructions that follow.
Plus, it kind of rhymes (Hey ~ J), and that's snazzy.

But I guess they were looking for the runathemill,
"Good morrow. You have reached the telephonecular device of Allison Bernard J. Please leave your name, your phone number, the last four digits of your SSN, and a brief message explaining why you have called this stately number and why I should reply post hence. Have a beautiful day and may the fairy godmothers bless sparkles upon your souls."

Then the Verizon woman feels it is her place to chime in, 'If you would like to leave a call back number, press 5 now!" etc.

And it's like 18 minutes before you even get to leave a message. By then, you're too distracted with fairy godmothers to even remember what you have to say.

So I don't dawdle.
"Hey, this is Allie J, you know what to do."
It mirrors my personality: I don't mess around. To the point. Straight-forward.
No flowery BS, but mildly humorous.

I've also had a friend complain that it was too short and that he didn't have enough time to think about what to actually say in the message.
(then why did you call me???)

Anyway, I decided that I wasn't going to change it to please conforming personnel.
Any firm that wouldn't hire me based on my voicemail message is probably a firm I wouldn't want to work for anyway.

But remember: the difference between fooling around  and science is writing it down,
TWS

Reasons

Good morning and good night.
(I wake up at twilight...)

Not really.

Oh, goody. Another presidential debate.

Can you guys believe that I've actually been running?
No, not for office, silly.
On a treadmill.
And here comes my shame moment.
Are you ready?
Here we go.
It takes me 15 minutes to run a mile.

You: "Oh. Mai. Gawsh. I can run like 4 miles in 15 minutes. I can give birth to a child in 15 minutes. I can order insurance from Geico in 15 minutes."

...and so on and so forth.

So I guess everyone else can run a whole lot faster than I can.
That's cool.
But I'm not training for the Olympics or for the track team.
I'm not even training, really.
I'm just running.

Running, running, running.

That's not true. I mostly walk. Which is why it takes 15 minutes.
So it's more like walking, walking, jog for a minute, walking.

One inspiration was that I got really mad on Saturday. So I went running because I couldn't stand being in the mall anymore.

One of the sales ladies in the middle of the mall was being all annoying like, "DO YOU EVER CURL OR STRAIGTHEN YOUR HAIR?!?!?"
And I was like, *scowl* "No."
Her: REALLY? NEVER!?!??!?!?!
Me: *walks away*

Another was that I just got this really awesome playlist from myself. Don't worry; I have an Allie J Entertainment Review post coming up soon where I shall post all my recent diamond finds.

But wow do I hate baseball music.

Another inspiration was that I was tired of being fat. Ish.
I know I'm not ffffffaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaT. But I hate feeling fat and lazy and that if someone was trying to chase me down and catch and rape me I couldn't get away fast enough.
Talk about motivation.
So yeah. I  want to be able to fit comfortably in my khaki pants again.
Of course, that can probably be remedied by just letting them air dry and not letting them shrink in the dryer after washing.

Baby steps.

And so I started with a mile.
One simple measily little mile.
Miles are easy. They're like 100s in swimming.
They get my heart rate up to like 164, which kind of seems borderline heart-attack to me, but miles don't KILL me.
And my legs only kind of SORT of hurt, so it's easy for me to keep going day after day.

Of course, I've only been going for 2 days.

But I can power walk like nobody's business at 4 miles an hour.
And that's precisely what I'm going to go do.

I'm keeping quiet 'til the phone stops ringing,
TWS

Subsequent Events

I don't mean to spill any beans here, but Mike and I are going to take a vacation.
Don't worry. I'll be home for Christmas.
(But it will probably be Christmas Eve when I arrive.)

WHY?

We're going to an actual NFL game: St. Louis Rams vs Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
In Tampa Bay.

Sidebar:
I really hate when "sports fans" shorten the Buccaneers to the Bucks because then I think of deer.
And if I want to watch the rams versus the bucks, I would just watch National Geographic.
Buccaneers are almost the equivalent of swashbuckling pirates, which is a far more attractive mascot than deer or "bucks".

Second less-relevant sidebar: 
I bet when they bet on the Bucks, they put bucks on the Bucks.

This is Sam: hangin' out with us, trying to be like Mike and sit like a person.

It's always a good time,
TWS

Saturday

I'm digging the new toilet paper they put in the bathrooms on campus.
Did I just say that out loud?

Anyway, I finally designed a dress all by myself that I plan to make.
I haven't seen this style bodice very often, but I really like it, and I'm going for a shorter skirt with some '50s flare.

Which do you like best? (the one on the right is how the back would look)

The problem is that I don't have a pattern for this. Or a pattern that looks anything like this. 

So it'll be my first time doing that, and...yikes.

And, yes, I did these on the back of auditing project papers.

Also, I'm not normally an impulse buyer, but today I made an exception.

Look at me and my awesome new umbrella.

IT'S GOT MUSTACHES!!!!!!!

Like a sir,

TWS

Bold

I bought Google stock yesterday.

You: "Why? Their price dropped- like- a lot- like- right after lunch. Like."

Precisely.
(And why do you say "like" so much?)

I bought the stock at a discount.
It was on SALE, man.
It was on the clearance rack at the back of the store!
And so, like a pair of severely marked down cute shoes, I snatched up some shares.

Google missed Wall Street's earning projections.
So what?
The stock is extremely undervalued because people are freaking out over nothing. It's GOOGLE, GUYS. It's not like it's going to go out of business in the near future (or ever) or anything.

And so, using my business smarts, I buy low.

(Not to be confused with the store BiLo which is really just a more expensive Harvey's in disguise)

And I've already made $45 since the market closed on Thursday.
That means I've gotten a higher return on my money in 4 hours than my savings account gets me in six months.

True story.

Bad fruit makes good pudding,
TWS

Tires

You know the other day when I was whining about being hungry and tired?

You: "Yes."

Yesterday, I decided to grab a bag of chips or a small bag of popcorn before my 4:00 class.
I went to the vending machine, and saw that these items were $1.00.

The machine took $5 bills, $1 bills and quarters.
I looked in my wallet- I had a $20, a $10, and 3 quarters.

So since I didn't have the right amount of legal tender required, I did not get to buy or eat my snack, and I was sad.

I also didn't think the vending machine was something to be haggled with; mostly because I suck at haggling, but also because the machine is a machine and cannot mechanically haggle.

And that's the true story about how I had $30.75 and could not buy a bag of chips.

Staring at the waves,
TWS

Notwithstanding

I don't think there is anything more frustrating than a not-working internet. Whenever I discover that the internet that I'm paying for is not working, a horrendous RAGE fills my soul.

All I wanted to do was watch Netflix.

That's all I wanted to do.

And the movie started playing, but then it stopped.

And then AVG wanted to brag about how great it was, so I let it do its thing.

Then I can't connect to the internet more, I disconnect and reconnect to Harshner several times, and nothing will load.

Then I get ridiculous messages like this:

Really? Google Chrome can't find Google? Seems a little...redundant doncha think?

Meanwhile, my chips and salsa are waning and are not going to last through the movie at this point because of all this internet shiz.

If you know me, you know that I do not curse, and I hate it when I hear it from others.
It's just unnecessary.
However, I've discovered that unreliable internet service is the only thing under the sun that makes me want to.

So I'm walking to reset the router, dropping F bombs all over the place, not even giving a D.

I guess the cool thing about our apartment is that we have one of those light switches that controls one of the outlets. Since we have to reset the router so much, Mike cleverly hooked the router to that switch, so instead of having to bend down, unplug and re-plug it, all you have to do is flip the switch in angry-internet rage.
It fixes the problem and relieves stress at the same time.

So then 30 minutes later, I get to watch my movie.

You: "Wow, you guys have sucky internet."

What's even suckier is that Hargray is the only freaking company that "services this area", so they pretty much have a monopoly and run the crap into the ground. Mike wrote a very heart-felt consumer letter about the issue, but we heard nothing back and have not experienced any improvements...

Basically, you can receive internet through the cable wires or DSL (or dial-up, if you really want to do that). Ours is set up through cable, so it rubs elbows with everyone else's internet in this building, which causes it to be all spotty. Nothing can be done.

I should start a Broken Internet Awareness program in protest of bad internet service. We would wear little ribbons on our shirts...OH! I'd get to pick a color!
Navy blue.With polka dots.
Unless it's already taken by appendix cancer or something.

Be very aware,
TWS

Priorities

So on Tuesday, life asked me, "Allie J, how would you like to spend your afternoon?"

a. Sewing
b. Napping
c. Studying for the CPA exam

And I actually chose C?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?!?!?!?

Other minutiae:

- Tomato soup is delicious.
- I wore my Allie J Crew skirt for the first time in public: total success.
- Sam is a kitty.
- 37 days of school left.

Apples are misleading.
Everyone (i.e. magazines and mothers) is like, "They're so good for you! And they're packed with fiber, so it'll keep you full for a while!"
LIES.
I was even MOAR hungry after I ate it. After the apple, the only thing I had left to eat was the sunflower seeds that I keep in my car, so I was seeding and spitting in accounting information systems class because I had no other choice.
It's not my fault they schedule class at times when I am most hungry; 4:00 is feedin' time!

Wow. That made me sound like a pig.
For the record, I have no shame in eating an entire bag of popcorn in one sitting.

I'm just wondering when this lunch:
[chicken salad sandwich, bag of chips chips, 14 carrots, yogurt, apple and banana]
was not enough to keep me full.
I mean, do I have a tapeworm??!?!?!?

AND...I'm tired all the time.

You: "Go to bed at a reasonable hour."

I do! But apparently10:30-7:30 still isn't enough sleep.

I'm becoming a bear.
All I want to do is eat so I won't be hungry and sleep so I won't be tired, and I want to attack anything that gets in the way of that. Hibernation seems like a perfectly logical thing to do at this point, but unfortunately society prevents me from pursuing such a lifestyle.

Rawr,
TWS

Craft

I lost my mood ring.
I don't know how I feel about this.

TWS

Sighs

I'm going to tell you a story. And it's going to be a true story.

You: "Of course it is; those are the only kind you tell!"

Yesterday, Mike and I went to the store to buy all the goodliness for yesterday's adventures (see yesterday's adventures in the post below).
We alternate who drives to the store, class, and other places in order to equalize mileage and gas usage by each. So since I was running low on gas and have to refill for the week coming up, I volunteered to drive.

"Yeah, I'll drive," I said, "I need to get gas."

On the way to the store, I saw the prices...$3.58, $3.59...

Then we come out of the store, and we're driving, and Mike's like, "Do you want a soda or something? They're only 59 cents here."
Sure! As I pull into Parker's which is, in fact, a gas station.

But do I park at the pump? NO. I totally forgot getting gas was even an objective for today.

So we get our drinks, and we even talk to a guy in the parking lot about directions, and it never even hits me that I need to fill up.

Then I woke up this morning and discovered that I didn't get gas at all yesterday.
I'm losing my marbles a lot faster than I had planned, and I don't even have children.

Unless Sam counts.

Putting 'gas' on the grocery list,
TWS

Submarine

Have you ever gone to Subway, ordered a 6-inch and thought, "This is not going to be enough."?

OR: Have you ever gone to Subway, ordered a footlong and thought, "This is too much for one sitting, but I know I'm going to want more than just a 6-inch."?

OR: Have you ever gone to Subway, ordered the perfect amount of food (a 6-inch chips and drink) and then thought, "This was just way too expensive."?

I HAVE.

And I HAVE A SOLUTION.

Presenting: The 8-inchlong:

This magnificent piece of work includes: roast beef, chicken, onions, green bell peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, provolone cheese, american cheese, pepper, and honey mustard on a white 8 inch sub roll. 

It would have also included olives had I not set down and abandoned my can of sliced olives at the banana stand and walked away. True story.

And, yes, the American cheese was an afterthought because I already put provolone on there, but it needed something yellow!

Eat with a side of honey barbecue chips and green tea. 

IT IS SO DELICIOUS.

Just look at all these layers!

I felt like I was Guy Fieri from Triple D. (But with less tattoos.)

This was one of the best impulse ideas that Mike and I have ever had. 

And I just thought I should share the success.

#homemadeSubway

And we're doing burgers on Sunday,

TWS

Slide Show

Sometimes it's good to post some pictures so that people remember that I'm a person.

This is a picture of me questioning the validity of this picture's headline:

It says "Going the Distance" and it's talking about flag football.

Is this really something that deserves a title like that? 

When I think of going the distance, I think of Hercules (burst into song: I AM ON MY WAY>>>>>I CAN GO THE DISTANCE), and then I think of Cake (burst into a more quiet song: He is going the distance. He is going for speed...), and then I think of accomplishing something very monumental.

So I was thinking- maybe this is an article that talks about how GSU actually made FBS status and was invited to a big game...

But no.

This picture is simply stating that intramural flag football teams practice.

Yeah. That's really "going the distance".

Way to lower the bar.

I just think newspapers have a crappy pool of cliche headlines that they use over and over again.
Like- WHENEVER there is an article even remotely talking about ice cream, the title always includes something about "the scoop" or "getting the scoop" or the "inside scoop".
The originality has certainly worn off.

At school, I keep getting told that my outfits are cute, and when I reveal that I make a lot of my pieces, people ask me if I'm going to be a fashion designer.

I've been saying no, but I do this for fun:

Should I start saying yes?

Before finance class:

During finance class:

That's a free-handed unicorn, yo.

You can't see it from here, but I'm also working on a griffin on the next page of my finance notes.

I also drew this cool sign for our dishwasher so that you always know the status of the dishes:

I buried a corpse in the wrong plot.
I made a grave error.

Kitteh is not amuzed with my puns.

And neither are you,

TWS

Pens

I was looking through my rucksack* yesterday, and I noticed I was running low on pens.

*Rucksack = backpack

"My goodness," I said, "I need more. Am I actually going to have to go out and BUY pens!?!?!"

In my family, pens are not something you go out and buy. Pens are things you just happen upon.

They are paraphernalia that you glean from speakers.
They are reminders of the hospital where you had surgery.
They are the address book for the piano tuner.
They the trash from the parking lot that you pick up and use (TRUE STORY).
They are the remainders from a children's pack of stationery (also a true story).
The accidentals that are still in your pockets when you leave work.
They are the left-behinds at the computer labs.

They are mementos.
They are souvenirs.
They are finders-keepers.

They are so seemingly insignificant pieces of plastic, and yet they are mightier than swords.

And when I almost resigned myself to buying a dollar pack of pens, I searched my desk and found a slew: partly from an old pack, but most were from the Georgia Society of CPAs.

"Well," I said, "That was a close one."

We can't afford to be neutral on a moving train,
TWS

Riddance

Leaf blowers put me in a bad mood.

Somehow, they're always around when I want to nap.

You: "Oh. Em. Gee. Allie J. You nap way too much."

Hey- just enjoying it while I can.
Or NOT because of leaf blowers and the people who operate them seem to want to carry and use the leaf blowers all the dang time.
Right now, they're blowing the corridors of the apartment complex.
I live on the third floor.
There are not even trees that grow this high! Leave me alone!

I swear- if it wasn't a legal violation  to bust into the actual apartments, I'm sure they would be in here leaf blowing all my books around and papers, too.
(And sheets of paper are actually called 'leaves'. You can lol about this later.)

And it's not just here at home that bugs me. It's at school, too.
Today I was leaving, walking on the sidewalk, and there was a woman.
Guess what she was doing.
That's right. Leaf-blowing.
And I guess I came into like her air-space because she just kind of stopped and stared at me until I passed.
WeIrD.

I'm sure they only do it because it's fun and the least-strenuous way of looking like you're doing something useful and calling it "lawn maintenance". All you have to do is grow some dreadlocks, walk around, and swing a noisy wind tunnel from side to side like you just don't care.
Because you really, really don't.

And it's not just sleep they're depriving me of here at home. I also can't listen to music or study or do anything meaningful while they're all outside creating a hurricane in the name of improving grounds appearance.

When I get old and rich and have a house, I am going to hire a lawn service, and I will prohibit them from using leaf blowers on my lawn.
Unless I actually have leaves on my lawn.
Which we don't.
So WHY ARE THEY STILL HERE?!?!?!?!?

(See what I mean about the bad mood thing?)

In other news, there was a hitch-hiker on the on-ramp to I-16 wanting to go to Savannah.
I picked him up.
Just kidding.
But about a mile down the road, there were orange construction signs that said, "Be prepared to stop."
And I was like, "Lol- did the hitch-hiker put those signs there?"

Hungry Hungry Hippos,
TWS

Volunteer

Let me tell you about this hilarious thing I did.

Remember the subject of yesterday's post?
Go on. Take a quick look.
Ok- so last week our teacher tells us about this audit case competition that GSU does (GA state- not my college). You get a team together, submit some answers, if you get called back, then you make a presentation. If you present and get in the top 3, there are cash money prizes.
First place is $1,000 per student, and I think second place is $300 per student.

I'm sitting there, listening to this "wonderful" "opportunity", and my brain was like, "Dude. I hate auditing."
And then another part of my brain was like, "Dude, I know. But you're inherently an over-achiever. And there's a chance for $1,000. It's one of these rare low-risk, high reward situations."
And then my brain said, "Dude- I hear you. But I'm not even motivated to do the work I have to do, let alone an optional group project. Geez, Louise."
And then the other part was like, "Now don't you be callin' me Louise!"

And so on and so forth.

The next day, a guy asked me if I was interested.
I answered honestly in that I told him I hated auditing, but then confessed that I wouldn't mind being a part of a group or exploiting my collective brain resources for the cause.
Before I knew it, I was staying after class on Thursday telling people to sign me up.

And so I guess I'm part of a team doing an audit case competition.
For fun.

Isn't that HILARIOUS?
Sarcasmically so.
I shall keep you posted on how this hilarious situation unravels. Especially if I win a cool $1,000.

Also, I think I'm the only one in my family who enjoys gummy bears.
What happened to you guys?

I'm going to attach some yarn to a hoodie and be a lion,
TWS

Adverse Opinion

I hate auditing.

There. I said it.
I really do.
I'm just not good at it. I think the only things in school that I've been worse at were chemistry and statistics.

Undergraduate auditing wasn't so bad. Maybe it was genuinely easier, or maybe it's because I had it right after Intermediate hellish stressful nightmare III, so auditing just seemed easier by comparison.

But graduate auditing is terrible.

You: "What is so bad about it? What even is auditing, really? Why do I ask so many questions?"

Here is the definition of auditing:

Auditing is a systematic process of objectively obtaining and evaluating evidence regarding assertions about economic actions and events to ascertain the degree of correspondence between the assertions and established criteria and communicating the results to interested users.

Got all that? Yeah, me neither.

Here's my definition:

Making sure things are done right in a company's financials and write boring reports and memos to people that never read them.

What makes it so terrible is that SO much of this is "judgement call" stuff. So some people think that it should be presented this way, and other people think it's not material.
And I'm so BAD at it because I don't pick up on what's really going on, and so I don't know how to fix it. And then when I do know how to fix it, it's not material and doesn't matter.

That's what's so hard about being external to the company. I just don't know.

I'm good with the numbers, though. And I'm good at understanding the entries/accounting stuff.
But I'm bad at judgement, which is why I am perfectly fine with doing grunt work and not writing the horribly boring reports and memos.

"to interested users."
It's almost laughable.

But since my life so far has been very ironic, I will probably end up working in audit and enjoying it.
Until then, I will plow through the remaining 17 days of this course and do well enough on the tests to outweigh my grossly negligent judgemental mistakes.

Disclaimer,
TWS

Crystal Ball

I went to get my haircut yesterday, and this was the first time Mike and I went together since we moved.
Because I was new to the place, the lady at the front had to add me to their system.

She was like, "Do you want to be on the same account?"
And I was like, "Sure!"

The result:

Yeah, I could get used to that.

I take it slow because I have time,
TWS

Headphones

Mike wants to write a Get-Rich-Quick book.
But he wants to get rich off by writing and selling the book.

So he should publish a book that just says, "Write a get-rich-quick book."





Mind blown.





Boy scout bonfire,
TWS

Jars

There are way too many antique malls on Highway 67.
Like 14 too many.
Or at least that's how it seems from all the superfluous billboards.

I've never really understood antiquing.
Hey! Let's go spend money on old junk that doesn't work anymore!

You: "But Allie J! You love looking at old junk! You love thrift stores! You love retro things!"

Ah, yes, but to a point.
Thrift stores are different because I can actually use, wear, bathe with what I find there and not just perch it on the mantelpiece I don't have yet.

Except for that time I found and bought that old school wax and stamp. I just haven't gotten around to writing ballin' old school letters to anyone yet.

(But when I start, Beth, you're going to get one.)

I've never understood the obsession that people have with collecting old cars, either. It's just shoving a bunch of money into ancient parts so you can drive around town with horrible gas mileage (but you can't park anywhere because it may never start up again) and  look "cool" to about 5% of the population.

As Mike says, "I like to live in my own generation, thank you."
Yes.
Just like this.

It's just that Highway 67 has the delightful speed limit of 55, perfect for optimal mpgs, and then I have to like slow down for all these people turning into these antique malls.

And traffic does not take into consideration how incredibly bad I have to pee.

Like a cow on a flat rock,

TWS

Fire the Attire!

Have you ever had a Bad Clothes Day?

It's a day where your clothes just don't fit right. I had one of these yesterday. It's like my tank top wouldn't stay down and kept riding up. And my skirt thought this was a great idea, too, so it started coming up. And at one point I thought I was flashing the whole campus, but I actually wasn't, but it just felt that way, so I kept yanking it down and looked like an insecure 7th grader.

Skirts also can be terribad because they twist. Before you know it, the side zipper is at your crotch, and there's a pocket where your buttcrack is supposed to be.
I do not understand how this happens. It's not like I'm doing gymnastics or hula-hooping.
I'm just walking.

And my shoes didn't want to work for me anymore either. I know you guys think I have enough shoes, but I disagree. I have tons of cute shoes which would be great for working at a CPA firm in Savannah. Walk from car to office, around office, from office to car- and that's it. But when I go to school, it's like: parking lot, stairs, room, stairs, other room, campus, parking lot, room, stairs, room, parking lot.
Which is a LOT of walking and leads to blisters, callouses and, worst of all, sweat.

So my cute shoes are not eligible for this kind of stuff. Especially since Statesboro is on a fault line, so all the sidewalks are angled one way or another. And I'm just weebly wobbling on my way to class trying not to fall over and get hit by cars.

(Statesboro's not really on a fault line, but I actually believed that it was at one point. See previous entry.)

So then you're like, "Well, why don't you just wear something comfortable?"
Um, because if I wore sneakers with a skirt, then I would look like I was 80. Or Amish. (or both)
And that's just not going to happen.

The same thing happens with bras. One day, they are perfectly comfortable over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders. But then other days, it's like wearing a barbed-wire egg carton.
But the bra didn't change! It's just a bad clothes day!

For the record- these things have happened with store bought clothes and not Allie J originals. I just wanted to make a plug for myself here and say that I make stuff that fits and is comfortable 100% of the time.
(except for the Itinerary Dress. I'm convinced that dress has an agenda.)

It's not like these garments are brand new clothes that are stuffy and uncomfortable. These are things that I've worn many times before, but now they all of the sudden decide they want to be all impossible. Instead of you wearing clothes, they end up wearing you.

So a Bad Clothes Day = A day where no matter what you wear, it feels uncomfortable and all you want to do is go home and change into a mumu.

It's gonna be a thing,
TWS

Fly

People lie.
Not everyone tells true stories like you.

So stop believing them, you silly, silly girl.

At face value,
TWS

The Digital Page

I wonder what ever possessed someone to sit down and write a textbook.

I know things. I want to make other people know things in the most painful and boring way possible.

Money is probably the only motivation. I mean, people wouldn't just write textbooks for fun. It's not like they're novels with exciting plots and characters.

Although, the people who write the fraud cases try to make it that way.
But I see through their wiley schemes. (the authors- not the perpetrators about whom they're writing)
And then they ask me questions about the 16 pages I just read.
Could you have at least drawn some pictures of the CEO yelling ferverently at the auditors?

A colorfully illustrated fraud case book. Business Idea #38.

And now I'm trying to study for my fraudulent financial reporting class, and I feel like I'm reading a dictionary.

Revenue recognition is this.
Deferred taxes are that.
Research and development looks like this, but it's really not.
Foreign currency translation exists.

You: "Allie J- it seems like you're taking a lot of fraud classes. I thought you weren't all up in that hot topic."
Me: I'm not.

But somehow, they still manage sneak it into the core courses of the MAcc and call it "integration".

It's not all tough cookies and harpischords, though.
I like open-ended questions on tests where as long as you can logically back up your opinion, you win.
(And then I do.)

And tomorrow I get to talk to The Doctor and pick out the last college class that I will ever take. I'll have to apply for graduation. Again. Do you think I should actually attend this time? The ceremony will be much shorter. And MAcc graduates even get a pinning ceremony. *giggle*

I miss my Dilbert comic books.
...
Well that was probably the nerdiest thing I've said all week.

The job search is going fantastically bleak.
Fantastically in that I'm applying to several new jobs every week.
Bleak in that I don't hear anything back.

“I think one place that’d be cool to get fired from, if you had to get fired, would be the unemployment office; because then you just go right back in there the next day and be like, “You work for me now, bitch. Find me a job. Hop to!”

—	Demetri Martin

I've discovered that I'm a great listener.
And a great thing-writer-downer.
These skills go great together, and are important (in my opinon) but how do I put them on a resume?

"Uses ears"
"Efficient note-taker"
Or maybe a general "Possesses communication skills that should be common but actually aren't"

Here's a true story: one time I was at an interview, and this partner of an accounting firm was looking over my resume. At this point in time, I was touting 85 WPM under typing skills.
Did he ask me about my involvement with student organizations, my classes or grades, my previous experience with information systems or employment at the school?
No.
He was all like, "So you type fast, huh?"

85 is no lie. I have the paper to prove it.
But why he wanted to talk about that minor detail on a page full of way more relevant information, I'll never know. He probably wanted to make me feel silly for having it on there.
So, yeah, I removed the 85 WPM from my resume.
And, no, I'm not going to go work for that firm.
(but I can still type 85 WPM)

Economists do it with models,
TWS

6 Mile Hike

If one more person gets engaged/married/has a child/moves into a significant other stage of life when they are only my age, I am going to eat my face and stop social networking altogether.

I didn't realize life was a competition to see who could get there fastest.

The piano is not firewood yet,
TWS

This song exists.