Fact Pattern

Things I'm going to do in March:

1. Log into my old Myspace account and send thousands of friend requests to complete strangers. I will only stop when I get 9,000 friends.

Potential benefit: my music will get really popular
Potential drawback: I may never get 9,000 friends not because I'm not cool but because Myspace is no longer cool.

Just remember: Jesus died for myspace in heaven.

Think about it.

2. Make pencil skirts.

They may be mundane with style, but that's what cute shoes are for.
Every time I wear this one, I am more and more impressed with my workmanship. It fits so well, it's long enough, it matches a bunch of stuff, it's versatile with the weather, it launders well, and the hook & eye clasp is still attached and, well, that's just amazing.

The only flaw, as mentioned in the blog post, is the amount of kitty hair it attracts. But that happens to a lot of things I wear.

So yeah. Pencil skirt [and possibly other styles of skirts] making season coming soon.

3. Listen to this song until it makes sense to me.

4. Become especially decorative with birthday cards.

Because I take birthdays very seriously.

At my firm, when it's someone's birthday, they pass around a card for everyone to sign. I'm usually one of the last people to get it, so when I open it up to sign, all the good lines are taken:

"Have a great day!"
"Hope you have a wonderful birthday!"
"Happy Birthday!"

I've decided that instead of being average and adding to it all in a different color pen, I'm going to taken it to the next level by being especially decorative and draw something that no one else will.

Oh it's your birthday? Here's a polka dotted octopus wearing a birthday hat with a speech bubble telling you so.
Somehow, I think people would enjoy colorful illustrations more than a scribbled signature. And, contrary to popular, it doesn't take that much longer to do.

Here's the catch: I never want draw the same thing twice. I'm really good at octopuses, cats, dinosaurs, giraffes, elephants, and starfish (because who isn't good at drawing starfish?). I'll need to practice a bit more and expand my menagerie.

5. Look at my CPA exam scores on the 11th. Please oh please may expectations = reality.

I know it well,
TWS

Blood Bank; Bon Iver

Passive Activities

Remember how Mike was going to get rich quick by writing a get-rich-quick book?

No?

Go here. 

Now that you've remembered, we can move along.

I've come up with a lot of great ideas that would be a chapter- nay- appendix in that book.
(I enjoy using the word "appendix" now that I no longer possess one.)

Get Rich Quick Idea #1:

Operate a towing company. Buy a beat-up looking tow-truck, hire someone who has a basic understanding of heavy machinery, and then put yourself smack dab in the yellow pages of the phone book.

You can set your hours to really inconvenient times of the day (like 9 to 4, with an hour lunch break) and still get regular business! All you have to do is pay that guy to tow cars, charge a towing fee, charge storing fees, and then when people actually want their cars fixed? Outsource, outsource, outsource.

Don't forget to only accept cash. The idea is to act as shady as possible.

Also, make sure you call yourself something really back-woods hick and misspelled like "Bubba's Toe and Bawdy Shoppe" so that people associate your façade of southern hospitality with good business.

Marketing. For. The. Win.

Tip: If business gets slow, travel to nearby roads and scatter nails and glass to get the phones ringing!

Get Rich Quick Idea #2:

Buy a really douchey piece of land. Like- REALLY douchey. Something extremely small, cramped, but paved, preferably in a really busy part of a city. 

Then paint some lines on that piece of land. 

Then charge people to park on that piece of land (hint: make "all-day" parking a worse value than by-the-hour parking). 

Then when people park illegally because your plot of land is so incredibly convenient but so incredibly not, TOW THAT S.O.B. WITH YOUR VERY OWN TOWING COMPANY!

Feel free to tack on extra charges like "Account maintenance fee" or, one of my personal favorites, "Processing fee". You know- like a dollar or two so people won't complain too much but you still get the extra cash for doing absolutely nothing of realizable value. People love that stuff.

Get Rich Quick Idea #3:

Are you good at gardening? No? 

Are you good with math? No?

Are you good with forming complete sentences and conveying them to another person? No?

WELL YOU'RE IN LUCK because this next idea involves NO SKILL WHATSOEVER.

Disclaimer: it's slightly illegal.

So Mike and I live in an apartment complex that is relatively good about leaving its residents alone. They don't bug us with stupid fees or surprise apartment showings. We keep to ourselves, and everyone likes it that way.

Which is why this idea would work so well.

We have noticed that some of our neighbors like to place trash bags right outside their doors. They don't leave it out there for a long time, but just until they're ready to take the long walk to the dumpster.

1. Go to a lawyer. Have him set up a LLC with some ridiculous name like, "Management Management, LLC". Or, if he's really good, set up a corporation AND a partnership and let the corporation be the general partner in the limited partnership. This way, you can be a 100% shareholder in one and a 99% limited partner in the other and never have your personal assets at risk while you carry on both of these companies and funnel all the profits into your greedy little hands.

2. Apply for an EIN with the IRS. Put it under some ambiguous business activity like "investment". 

3. Get a PO Box for your little shell company(ies). 

4.  Open a checking account with your new EIN. Now it's time to start making money.

Whenever you see trash sitting out, have pre-printed notices that you can just stick in people's doors. The notices will say something like:

Dear Resident, 

We have noticed that your unit had a bag of trash placed outside of it. This violates code 87-30-10 of your leasing agreement.We have accordingly assessed a fine of $30 on your unit. 

Please make a money order or cashier's check payable to Management Management, LLC and mail to PO Box 8755. 

Thank you, 

Management Management, LLC 

~a family company~

And make sure you put that on some ballin' letterhead.

I really wonder how many people would fall for that. Since it's just a PO Box and not an actual place, it's not like people can come banging at your door. And then, when you receive people's checks/money orders, deposit them into bank account. Easy peezy.

Also, only accept money orders or cashier's checks. This way, you won't be responsible for personal checks bouncing, which can make your little company unprofitable with pesky NSF bank fees.

Note: this is a shell company and fraudulent and very much illegal. Do not attempt.

Now time for:

Best Business Practices

By Allie J

1. Be convenient.

I cannot stress this enough. Do you know why people like myself spend $4 on a glass of lemonade while standing in line at Six Flags? Because lemonade is convenient outside in Georgia in the summer.

Who knew, right?

This guy knew:

And he got rich quick.

Imagine what you could do if you sold candy to people waiting at the DMV. 

2. Be even more convenient.

The pool that I worked for my first job as a lifeguard got it right. 

We were open normal hours Tuesday through Friday, open half day on Saturday, and closed Sunday and Monday.

Shifting your workweek one day into the weekend gives people who have full time jobs the opportunity to fulfill their needs without taking time off, AND you still get 2 days off for the weekend. Possibly even more. 

This is why the post office sucks so hard.

Well, that in addition to a lot of other things they do poorly.

3. Talk on the phone like you're an actual person.

Many times I call businesses, and it's like the people running them don't know that they run them. It's like they expect me to know everything and then they can just "mm-hmm" to questions.

Me: "So when can I come pick it up?"

Them: "Mm-hmm."

!?

Also, "mm-hmm" is not a proper way to end a phone conversation. Try saying, "Alright, b-bye" or "Take care". You know, just BE A PERSON.

Otherwise I might write blog posts making fun of how unprofessional you really are.

There and back again,

TWS

Multiple

The Prometric Testing Center.

It's where boys become men.

It's where you're one step away from having to give a blood sample to be admitted.

How many layers of security/authentication do they really need?

Apparently:
1. Notice to schedule
2. Driver's license
3. Fingerprints
4. Signature
5. Metal detector
6. Emptying of pockets and everything in a locker
7. And a picture of my big ol' face.

Seriously- she stuck the camera about 4 inches from my face, so when I got to my testing computer, this is what I see:

This picture makes the one I actually took look pretty good.

Overall, I feel not bad about the whole thing.

The first part was pretty easy, and the next part was pretty hard (which is a good thing because this is a computer-adaptive test, so I probably did really good on the first part). The next part was kind of hard, and then the fourth part was stinking freaking stupid hard.

This test didn't make me want to cry, but it didn't make me want to burst into song either. I felt way more nervous about tests in graduate school last summer than I did about this one, and I'm thinking the stuff that was really hard in my test was hard in everybody else's. Maybe the curve gods be merciful.

 But after I take one of these things, I'm going to start adding letters to my name because when I get it all done, that's what it's going to be.

Allie J, C*,
TWS

*maybe

Diem

Waking up in the morning feels like death. Every single time.

I wonder if death will feel like waking up.
Wouldn't that be weird?

I kind of dread going to bed because I know I'm just going to have to wake up again.
9 hours of sleep. 5 hours of sleep.
It doesn't matter.
I am an extra in The Walking Dead until there is coffee.

I'm the one on the right:

I even look like that, too, in the morning.

But then there is coffee. And life gets okay for a little while.
And then brain fuel gets low.
The fuel light comes on.
Time for lunch.
Sandwich, chips, carrots and fruit.
E-mail some friends. Draw some stuff.
I LOVE BOOKKEEPING!!!!
Then it's 3? Maybe? 3:15?
4?
How did they get to last year's balance without any transactions?
Oh, there are some transactions.
Too many paperclips right here, right now.
I can't believe I have to go home and study after this.
BUT THEN I GET TO GO SHOPPING ON FRIDAY.
And get my car fixed.
CUTE SHOES.
It's after 5.

*traffic*
*park*
*re-park because I'm trying to get better at backing into parking spaces so that I can face the sun in the morning so that on cold mornings I don't have to scrape ice off of my windshield*

*open refrigerator*
Hey look. I actually went grocery shopping this weekend. There's food in here.
Let's heat up some chicken.
Mike: "Eh"
Dinner with my CPA reg book. How romantic.
How I Met Your Mother.
More coffee.
Studying.
Reading.
Progress tests.
Take a shower. Think about summertime.
Dry hair while cramming reading more stuff.

Cuddle in bed with CPA reg book. How sweet.
Mike plays video games.
Brush teeth. Why does my floss keep coming out of its container like that?
I need a haircut. At some point. In my life. Maybe.
Ohmygosh i get to go to bed now i am so excited about pillows
10:30
11:20
There's a cat in here.
11:58
Dang. Coffee.

Repeat.

And not being able to stay late when everyone else does will make you feel like a tool.

Like an anti-team player.

There is no (t) in (t)eam,
TWS

Rhinocerocity

I know Morgan Stanley probably doesn't gnaw on its outgoing mail.

So this:

is why I can never, and will never, respect the post office.

Post hoc,

TWS

Cabin

Things to stir coffee with, in order of preference:
1. Spoon
2. Spork
3. Fork
4. Butter knife
5. Steak knife
6. My finger
7. Coffee straw

Using a coffee straw is about as effective as trying to cut your lawn with scissors.
No, not scissors, more like fingernail clippers.

Maybe I'm not doing it right.

Another thing I may not be doing right is Subway.

Whenever I go there, I always underestimate the memory capacity of the workers.
So when they ask me what else I want on my sandwich, I wait a reasonable amount of time between each item so I'm sure they don't forget anything.
"I'll have lettuce...and spinach...and green peppers...and onions..." etc.

But I wonder if I didn't, could they still do it? Is there an art or a pattern to the toppings table?
"I'll have lettucespinachgreenpeppersonionstomatoes and a generous portion of honey mustard."

I kind of feel like they're upset with me for not going faster, but then I don't want to go too fast.
I don't know the appropriate thing to do here.

I wish I could be an "everything-but" person like Mike is.
"Everything but spinach and cucumbers."
But I think my "everything but" list would be longer than my other list.

Another thing I may not be doing right is clothes.

I've been afflicted by a hardly fictional phenomenon known as Fat Arm Syndrome that occurs in females between the ages of 20 and 94. It's not contagious, but it is self-esteem killing.

Allow me to tell you a true story.

I woke up this morning and needed to match some brown pants. I pulled a shirt from my closet--

You: Hold up, Allie J. I thought you were trying this whole, "I pick out my clothes every Sunday so I don't have to spend time waffling between fashion choices in the morning."

Haha. You said waffling.
I like waffles.
And pancakes.
Make them blueberry.

Anyway, yes, you, I still do that, but just as Mother warned, the weather, you know, changed, and I had to adjust my outfit accordingly.

So I pulled a shirt from my closet. Now this was a shirt I hadn't worn in a while, but I remember it looking good, so I slipped it on. Or tried to.
My left bicep is so fat that when I finally got the sleeve above my elbow, I thought I was going to pass out it was so tight. My right one was pretty tight, too, but not as bad as my left.

And then the day before, I went to go put on a shirt that I had picked out a night before, and the same thing happened even though I knew I had worn that shirt to work only a few weeks before.

Fat Arm Syndrome.
It's a real thing.

Which brings me to my story of The Yellow Shirt.
One day, I went shopping in Goodwill.
Yes, I shop thrift; you can judge me later.
I saw this bright, yellow satin shirt: from New York & Company, very new, and very my size.

Or so I thought.

I went to the dressing room to try it on. It fit great in the torso, but the sleeves felt like I had thick rubberbands around my arms. I undid the buttons on the sleeves to give my puppies some breathing room, and then it just looked stupid and I did not end up buying the lovely, yellow shirt.

Fat Arm Syndrome.
It's a real thing.

It's not like I work out and have these big, beefy man arms. I only packed on girth when I was drum major, but that should be gone by now.
So I can't figure out if I actually have it, or if everyone else in my torso size has anorexic stick arms.

Most stick people are black.

Think about it.

Am I more than you bargained for yet,
TWS

Sugar, We're Going Down; Fall Out Boy

Mine for the Waking

Brace yourselves.
A rant is coming.

The alarm in our apartment has decided to start beeping really loudly randomly.
I don't even know what it's an alarm for. It's not the smoke detector. Maybe it's just a bad-events-alarm.
Like for thieves or, you know, zombies.

Saturday at 3am, it beeped twice.

And when I say "beep", I mean that it went like this:
"GENERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
So maybe "screamed" would be a more appropriate verb here.

Saturday at 3 am, it screamed twice.
Then at 6:44 am, it screamed again.

It's pretty super frightening to be woken up by such a sound.
It reminds me of freshman year living in the dorms, which is just a terrible memory altogether.
But there I would be. Sleeping soundly in my little twin bed on the fourth floor when a defeaning shriek would flood the hallways.
Your first thought: "Oh, no."
And then the horrible realization happens: That you actually have to get all dressed and bundled up while trying to hold your ears closed and then you have to walk down 4 flights of stairs to stand out in the cold with a bunch of annoying "honors" students for an hour while the fire department hoses down some kid's burned macaroni in the community kitchen.

I hate alarms.
So very much.

Then on Sunday, it screamed once during the superbowl.

Then again at 2:00 am.
Then at 3:09 am.
Then at 3:38 am.

Mike yanked it off the wall and took the batteries out around 4:00 am.
Yet even after that it was very difficult to fall asleep.

And then Sam wanted to be EXTREMELY kitty and walk all over my waning corpus.

*Fun fact: corpus is latin for "body", but it is also the term for principal inside of a trust.
Accounting.
The more you know.

Ending of story: I got like no sleep.
And waking up to "GENERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" puts me in a mood more foul and black than Satan's stool sample.

Also, not getting enough sleep makes me hate things I normally don't.
Like music.
Or animals.
And people.

I even went to bed late because creativity happened at like 11:30 and didn't stop until after midnight.
I designed some things, man. And some stuff.

So now we have this dangling wire in our hallway and an empty alarm on our kitchen counter.
Mike threw away the battery.
And we are not replacing it.

You: "Allie J- that's not smart and it's so unsafe. You could die in a fire!"

I think I would rather die in a fire than be brutally woken up 4 times a night.

You: "So just replace the battery."

And put money towards something that annoys the crap out of me with no perceivable benefit?
No thanks.

But then I came to work today, started reconciling stuff in silence, and I am feeling so much better.

Wow, that sounded like a Dear Diary entry.
Not to be confused with a JOURNAL ENTRY!!

*nobody gets my jokes*

I'll be here all week.

Here's to the morning,
TWS