"We will restore chaos..."

I found the most incredible British website with the most extensive collection of Bush-isms ever! They have clips that American media either missed or purposely chose to ignore, and they are all hilarious! I always knew Mr. Prez wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed - though a tool to be certain - but I have never ever ever heard anyone talk such gibberish in such a comical manner! There are clips in which it's not even possible to get a gist of what he's trying to say, that's how garbled his thoughts are. Congratulations America. You have officially elected a mentally retarded man to be your leader. Time to smoke him out! ;-)

So speaking of places you can hear such funny audio clips and more, my show proposal did get approved by the program director at Fairfax Public Access, so now I am waiting for a time slot to be assigned. I just received the letter on Saturday. I'm pretty excited. Good thing I've been spending every free moment stalking the internet for audio content and interesting stories. The Mariya Alexander Show will prevail - you mark my words, oh haters and silent admirers alike!

On the personal front, Janey's visit home was too short for how ridiculously saturated my schedule is. I really only got to hang out with her a day and a half, and naturally, we spent the last part of that time bickering. As soon as I picked her up from the airport on Wednesday afternoon, I had to run to work and stay there until about 8:30. And that's after already being up since 3:30 AM and doing my time at WJFK. It really is amazing that anyone could question my devotion to the station and to the show. I get up at the most ungodly hours to go work for FREE. I ASKED to be assigned to this show too. I could have chosen a different show to work with when I applied for the internship. I could have had more sleep. I could have had some semblance of a sex life. (Yes, unfortunately there has been a temporary drought for the past week, due to utter exhaustion.) I wanted to work for the best show at WJFK, though, and so here I am. Hate if you must, but I am anything but ungrateful and un-dedicated.
Boy, how I digressed! Anyway, so Wednesday went by, and Thursday went by even quicker. I worked all day, 9 AM until about 8:30. Then Friday it was back to the radio station in the morning, and then back to work at the salon in the afternoon. At least Janey and Thanasi and I had time to grab some lunch at Ri Ra before I went to work on Friday. Ri Ra is THE BEST Irish restaurant ever, by the way! Even their vegetarian options are delicious and flavorful. I always feel like restaurants don't even bother with trying to make their veggie dishes taste good - they just have them to be politically correct. This place, on the other hand, infuses each dish with flavor and fresh ingredients. And the waiters are so cute! I have a weakness for the Irish and their sexy accents. If you do too, go to Ri Ra in Bethesda and enjoy!

Now for the pay-off of this whole entry. If you've read this far and managed to stay awake, stay tuned just a bit longer, because my life is the most awkward, painful experience ever! So remember how I mentioned that I liked the nice Japanese girl who applied for the receptionist position? Well, as soon as I began to train her, she turned into that little creature from "The Grudge" and started to scare the living shit out of me and everyone at the salon. It really is surreal how I attract the most crazy of the crazies. Within a couple hours of being at the salon ON HER FIRST DAY, she began going for breaks every 15 minutes or so. She kept complaining of being tired and having a headache. Then she asked if it would be alright if instead of coming in at 9 AM when she's supposed to actually be there, she would come at 9:30. I said that no, that would not be alright because we hired her to work specific hours and she said she could do it. So then she confessed to being on several strong psychiatric medications which often prevent her from waking up at a decent hour in the morning. I tried to keep my composure and be encouraging, but frankly I knew right then that her time with us was to be short-lived. She then continued to regale me with stories of parental abuse and long stays at mental hospitals. Then, to top it all off, when I asked her to pick up the phone and start confirming appointments, she looked me dead in the face and said "Oh... I'm scared... I have really bad phone anxiety." Talk about lying at your interview! This girl may be crazy, but she was smart enough to lie to us and convince us that she had at least some basic social skills. We just thought she was foreign and cute with her accent. Turns out she's just off her rocker and can't even control the inflection of her voice because she's so disconnected from how normal humans interact and behave. She asked me in her high-pitched voice "Mariyaaaaaa, whaat do I doooo if I really liiiiike someone but he doesn't seeeem to liiiiike me at aaaalllll?"
"Who is this someone?" I asked her. "Someone you went to school with? How do you know him?"
"He's just some guuuuuuy that works at Trader Joooes. I reaaallly like taaaaalking to hiiiiim, but a coooouple of daaaays ago I toooold him abooouut a psychooootic episooode I haaad, and heee called me a psyyyychoooo." (She really draws out her vowels like that)
What the fuck was I supposed to say to that? That was her second day at work, and at that point we had all had enough. The clients were afraid of her, all the stylists were flabbergasted by her, and so the salon owners told me to call her and let her down gently. The salon environment and the extremely social, busy, PHONE-oriented work it involves simply wasn't right for a phone-phobic, episode-having freak. I really actually liked her on a personal level - she entertained the hell out of me and was so deferential that I could have really gotten used to having her around to cheer me on. But alas, I did what I had to do. I called her, couldn't reach her, so left a polite message on her voicemail telling her not to come in the next morning.....
That night (Friday), as Janey and Thanasi and I were chilling out with some beers and queers (okay, no queers), my phone rang at about 11:30 PM. It was HER! Boy, all that depressive niceness went right out the window! She was suddenly fierce!

"Whaaaat am IIII suppoooosed tooo dooooo?! Thiiiiis is veeerrryy unfaaaaaaair! I aaaalreeeeaaaaady quiiiiit my ooother joooooob. I waaaaant to seeeeee a coooopy of the emploooooyment contraaaaact!"

Contract? It's some shitty hair salon! She filled out an application, not a contract! No one owes her anything. It even says on the application that the company reserves the right to fire anyone at any time for any reason, and she signed it! I tried to explain all this nicely, gently, but she was relentless. I've never seen or heard anyone fight so fiercely against being fired. Finally I had to basically cut her off because I was beginning to nod off. It was late! I quickly said good-bye and hung up, cursing myself for giving her my cell #, and praying that she wouldn't find out where I live. Janey, my darling little sister, had a Japanese stalker once -a virtual stranger that became obsessed with her and showered her with gifts and late-night suicide calls. I remember this lasted for years. I don't have time for something like that right now.

On Saturday I had to work all day too, 9-5. This day flew by quickly, though, and brought a final solution to all our problems. I don't mean final solution as in the eradication of all the crazy Japanese girls, but rather as in the hiring of my dear friend Jenn to work at the salon. It just so happened that she left her old job a day or two before, and the timing couldn't be more perfect! The owners and the stylists really liked her, so we put her to work immediately after the informal interview. I could finally relax and cut back on my hours like I've been wanting to do!

After work on Saturday, we had to run to meet my parents for dinner at Tara Thai. We hadn't seen them in weeks, and they really wanted to at least get us all together while Jane was in town. It was a regular old dinner with my folks - slurping, burping and overeating (mostly my Dad's accomplishments). It was yummy and fun nonetheless. I love the casual relationship I've always had with my parents. We can literally talk about anything - sex, drugs, rock and roll - nothing makes them blush. So as we were sitting there and having a great time, Thanasi suddenly tensed up as he looked out the window.

"Oh shit, here come my mom and sister!" We all started acting like awkward teenagers trying to avoid someone - looking down at the table, whistling, shifting around in our seats. Then we realized that we were acting like jerks - we couldn't just avoid my husband's mother and his sister no matter how badly we wanted to. We ambushed them at the door and greeted them a little too warmly and enthusiastically. We forced them to join our table, even though we were half-way done with our dinner, and they looked like they wanted to cry and run away too. Everyone tried to make polite conversation, but I could tell we were all dying inside. So just as the waitress brought out mother-in-law's and sister-in-law's main course, my husband and sister and I did the best possible thing. We got up and left. We had to leave anyway - we had a friend's dance performance to catch at Joy of Motion, but the timing just couldn't have worked out better and funnier. My poor parents! My poor mother-in-law! They were left to navigate the murky waters of forced small talk on their own. I only wished we had a way to watch the whole thing come crashing down after our departure. I can laugh about it now, but I honestly almost fainted from anxiety.

The dance performance was an adventure too! It was a showcase of all the different dance styles offered at Joy of Motion, with each class performing a choreographed, complicated number for our amusement. With evidently no standards for any prerequisite level of expertise to participate in this show, you can imagine how hilarious it was to see people of all ages and shapes and sizes gyrate and contort to music together. I could have sworn I saw an old Jewish lady that goes to our salon doing the "jazz hands" and lifting up her skirt to reveal her scraggly legs during a big Broadway number.
The friend we were there to support was good, though. I've been out dancing with her, and already knew I could expect a good show.
Afterwards, her entire group wanted to go out and celebrate. We walked to a nearby bar/restaurant, and everyone spent about half an hour trying to figure out where to sit. We ended up breaking away from the pack and just went to the bar, where I met a pretty funny stand-up comedian/bartender named Pete. He was chubby, he was balding, he was angry - hilarious! I got his email and will friend him on MySpace as soon as I finish writing this epic entry.
And that's about it for my weekend. After having a few drinks, we left the merry group to celebrate and went back to the house. I amazed myself by staying up until like 1 and drinking several more Heineken Lights. I guess I was revved up from all the excitement of watching tutu-clad senior citizens and fatties prance around. I would definitely recommend attending such dance recitals often. They are cheap, if not free, and guaranteed to please!

Janey Poo and other types of poo too

My little sister will be here in about an hour and I couldn't be more excited! This creature has been a pain in my ass for so long, I honestly can't believe how close we've become lately. It's amazing what growing boobs and getting drunk together can do for a relationship. She's the one that has done most of the boob-growing in our family, so I can't take any credit there, but still. My little baby is all grown up! I can't wait to see her.

Today was my first day back at the station since the grand club-fest on Monday's show, and it was uneventful and quiet, which is good. As thrilling as all that attention was - the suggestions to fire me, the name-calling - my racing heart needed a little rest. The good news is that The Big O himself smiled at me and said hello very nicely when I greeted him today, complimenting me on a job well done, so I guess I really can't ever turn down his request for a sandwich as I previously planned on doing. ;-) Also, a friendly member of the custodial staff is now leering at me suggestively and calling me "hot" whenever he sees me. Ladies and gentlemen (mostly gentlemen), I have arrived!

Last night was fun. My dear Jenn came over and entertained me with stories of almost joining a Mexican gang in Cali while Mr. T was teaching his class. Then we ran to Chipotle and darted through the door literally as they were about to lock up for the night. I know all those poor people behind the counter were wishing they could spit into our food. Instead they seemed to have made my burrito extra spicy, which led to unfortunate circumstances during my private contemplation time this morning. How can something be even spicier coming out than it was going in?! Despite this, I just polished off the remaining spicy green salsa (medium by Chipotle's ludicrous standards) with some chips, and expect more pain to come later tonight. I never learn. How do Hispanic and Asian peoples deal with this problem? Are their rectums numb?

meat bikinis

This has really been an exciting day on many fronts. Besides the obvious on-air spectacle - the unveiling of this god-forsaken blog - I also contributed my share to fight racism in the workplace, and even went grocery shopping too! I guess if I make any comment on the weak criticisms I've received from the few unhealthily obsessed fans of the show so far, I should say that whatever somebody's opinion of me personally may be, their comments on my "grammer" are completely out of place. I received a perfect score on the English part of the SAT's, actually scoring in the top 2% of the country, and have never gotten anything besides an A on an essay or paper; so to all the rednecks with their flannel boxers in a bunch over sentences that may be too long for their comprehension: I cannot be deported because I am a permanent resident of these great United States! I endured persecution and prejudice in the Mazerland (say it with a thick Russian accent), and I guess I'll have to keep suffering the same fate here just because I have a sense of humor. So be it. But if I were an overweight, bald man who spent his time trolling online message boards (i.e. the Junkies message board... you'll know him when you see him), I wouldn't publicly announce my hatred of women and completely kill all the slim chances of ever getting laid again. Just a thought.

Anyway, what I really wanted to say was that I just received the funniest email from a girl I recently interviewed for the salon position. We've been looking for a part-time receptionist to cover those precious hours that I'm interning and making so many people so angry, and this really attractive, stylish, articulate young black woman came in for a meeting. I asked her about her work experience, her ability to deal with insanely rich and finicky old ladies, and her answers were very appropriate. She seemed like the perfect fit, except that she said she has a full-time job and is only available evenings and weekends. After the owners and I complemented her and assured her that she would be an asset to our salon, we explained that we would have to call her after we find someone to cover the times I can't be there in the mornings and then would try to find some hours for her. We told her we would call her when that happened and sent her on her merry way. Well today I got a hilarious email accusing us of being racists because it was such a short interview, claiming we were surprised that she was "an African American woman" because she sounded so "Caucasian and professional" on the phone, and that her friend even suggested she contact the NAACP. I just can't help but run into crazies! I explained to her that all of us actually loved her and were upset she wasn't available more hours, but were definitely planning on calling her. I mean, what did she expect? It's a freakin' salon! It pretty much takes a couple of moments to ascertain that someone can successfully answer a telephone and book an appointment, but I guess she wanted us to really delve into the inner qualities and life experiences that would have made her a stellar receptionist despite being a disadvantaged black woman. She wrote back embarrassed and apologized. I sympathize with her hasty display of emotion so badly, I feel obligated to still offer her the job. She and I are sisters in our vulnerability - she is black, and I am a Ukrainian Jew who really loves hip-hop. I doubt she would take it, though, and I don't really want to work with the kind of unstable person who always feels so insecure in her own skin. We'll see what happens. Right now the morning slot forerunner is a Japanese immigrant with a really cute accent. She even signed the application with Japanese characters, which I thought was the coolest thing I've ever seen. As far as I'm concerned, she's hired based on that alone, but we'll see what the owners say after she comes in for a little trial run tomorrow.

Last night's "Family Guy", by the way, was probably my favorite ever. Peter's stroke face was genius.

May the baby Jesus bless you all.

God Knows You Lonely Souls

I'm exhausted - a walking zombie - but alas, I can't sleep without my beloved. He's away at the Torpedo Factory, making art torpedoes... or teaching random people how to sculpt the human nakedness. Either way, he isn't here, and I can't sleep without him. Thus I am caught in a cycle of sleep deprivation throughout the week, which culminates in a completely useless Sunday, when I lay around comatose and feel guilty for not accomplishing something during my long-awaited "free" time. Just like this past Sunday. What a waste.

There are just too many things to think about. I am not the type to know what to do about all of them, so I just sit and think and worry. Or run around and think and worry. I try to chip away, one little thing at a time, and I try to reward myself by allowing tiny moments of feeling good, but mostly I am just scared. But I keep pushing myself to do the pointless things I do anyway.

This Saturday is the last radio production class at Fairfax Public Access. I have to submit my show proposal and then my very own weekly 1-hour show will be bestowed upon me. I want to be excited, but I just feel numb. It's no huge accomplishment, really. No one really pays attention to public access/cable-cast/web-cast little shows, do they? I need a web guru to help me promote. Better yet, I need a hilarious, jaunty co-host, but where is he? I decided that I would definitely prefer a HE, because a SHE would compete too much. I need to be unique. So far I'm doing okay on my own with the little practice runs we've been doing on the air, but come on. How long can I sit and talk to myself before I start to lose touch with reality? I need someone who can at least argue with me a little bit, make fun of my utter insanity. Where could that someone be? Why do all my friends have to be so flaky and/or nonexistent? *sigh*


But enough whining. I really shouldn't complain. Things are moving right along. My internship at 106.7 WJFK is going swell. The guys, the locally famous Sports Junkies, or just The Junkies, as they are now known, treat me great... considering I am a girl. It's just really depressing to be surrounded by so many men and feel their physical attraction to me and their simultaneous indifference toward me in every other regard. They can't even fathom that I may know more than them about the world at large, or that my IQ is most likely higher than their IQs averaged... maybe even put together.. haha. But either way, they have no idea about any of this. All they want to know is when the last time I hooked up with a girl was, and do I prefer to have sperm land somewhere on my body, on my face, or in my mouth. I mean, the very idea that any woman actually likes for sperm to land anywhere near her is preposterous, but whatever. That's the world I am in. Sperm, and sports, and machismo oozing out of every crevice. And honestly, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Okay, I would trade it for the world and many different things in the world, but I wouldn't trade it for any regular office, or retail, or customer service job. And I ultimately really like everyone I work with on a personal level. It's just frustrating to not have everyone immediately recognize my greatness! But why should they? They need to see a finished product of some sort before they can judge me. So that's what I'm doing with this whole public access business. Hopefully some semi-decent demos will be made so that for once I can look someone in the eyes and ask them where they like their sperm.