Susie J's Life Lessons

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

August 15, 2006

1. Two weeks is too long for a birthday.

2. To release a jello mold, first soak the mold in hot water for a few minutes. Then place a plate on top, and quickly flip the mold and the plate so the jello lands centered on the plate. If the jello isn’t immediately released, soak it again in hot water for another minute and try again.

3. One can bake in the microwave!! But first one needs the Tupperware Microsteamer.

4. Work doesn’t do itself. My body doesn’t feed itself. Mail doesn’t read itself. Blogs don’t write themselves. And problems just don’t resolve themselves, no matter how much you might wish they would. Ooooh, but what if they did??

Dear Google,

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

I’m a big fan.

  • Google Maps satellite view enabled me to take a screenshot of my new apartment building. It’s a dome!! Seriously. It’s our dome sweet dome.
  • I recently put the code for Google Analytics in the company website, allowing me to track the usage of every link in a totally revolutionary and unique way!! And those graphs you provide are really easy to read and informative if I’m only looking for a quick overview.
  • Google Calendar changed my life. I now have thirteen different calendars–all different colors! Many are shared with my coworkers, friends and family. The important dates for my workplace are publicized on the web via a USCA Google Calendar. (Search for it! I keep it nicely up to date.) It’s the most effective and efficient way to share a schedule that’s ever been created. That might be quite a statement, but I’ll stand by it.
  • Gtalk has brought instand messaging back in my life! I forgot how much faster I type than talk. And I can IM multiple gmail users at once, making it even easier to keep in touch!
  • And gmail…with its infinite storage and easy search engine. You’ve got a great spam filter, and I really like and utilize the labels. I have a label for every money-making scheme I’m working on! Though I have to say, it is a little too difficult to get to everything you’ve ever labled a certain label if you don’t have something from that label right in front of you. You should look into doing something about that.

Now google, it’s my birthday today, and you know what I’d really like for my birthday? Not a pony or even a set of kitchen knives (which I really do need). For my birthday, I’d really like a Google Tasks. Each task would be a bubble on a blank page. They’ll resemble the appointments on Google Calendar, but you’ll be able to move them around and change their size and color to organize them in whatever way is intuitive and relevant to the tasks at the time! Like mutable magnets on a refridgerator, you can put the important ones on top–or in the middle–I’m going to use bright red to represent IMPERATIVE. And when you double-click on a task, it will open up a fresh refridgerator for decorating with all that task’s subtasks. And let’s also be able to put in pictures and websites as subtasks. Some of my tasks are websites. Like www.comcast.com is a subset of the Bills task. My Bills Google Calendar is brown too.

I’d really appreciate your immediate attention to this matter. Google Tasks will be the last major tool I need to live my life powerfully and efficiently–in this, my twenty-sixth year and for each year thereafter. You see, I’d program it myself but it’d take me sooo long–even though I’m sure it’s just a bit of object oriented programming and a slick interface. Not that y’all aren’t geniuses, but you totally haven’t thought of this yet. Oooh, I know! I’ll throw in a discount on some tupperware? How about a chip bowl with a little salsa container that hangs on the side?

And you don’t even have to give me a precentage for using my idea. Just the convenience will be enough. And a share or two, of course.

Cooperatively yours,
Susie J.

P.S. Can you also help me create that my new dome-icile is available a week earlier? That’d be great.

today

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

(containing entirely too much information at points)

I didn’t sleep last night. I laid awake until later than 4 in the morning; I awakened at multiple points in the early morning, and was suddenly wide awake. That’s how it is when I don’t sleep. I sleep from time to time, but then start awake, and feel as if I’d never slept at all.

So I was exhausted. And slinging sponges singolo from 10 a.m. til 10:30 p.m. (plus set up and breakdown) on what should have been one of my best days yet. Friday. The beginning o f the rush. Day 15 of the 17 day fair.

And I got my period. Now, I’m blessed with a short period (3-4 days). But I’m cursed with weeks of PMS, and a day of HELL. Which never fails to be the first day of my period. Today.

I’ve been daydreaming of surprises. I’m embarassed to say what sort of surprises, but surprises. Daydreaming for probably a week now. Or more.

PMSing + daydreaming of surprises = trouble.

I was an emotional wreck. Have been, I suppose for a few days now.

My first demo of the day: The older lady I’m pitching too repeats, “I’m falling asleep” every few sentences. That and “get on with it” and “how much are they?”

I persisted. She bought a set, but when the two women looking on left halfway through, she felt that really justified her claims. She just wanted to buy it and move on. And rude as she was, she did just that once I’d finally finished.

At which point I started to cry.

And then my cramps kicked in. Two Excederin later I was still in just as much pain, just as exhausted and cursing every last ion the world was comprised of.

Until Rob, the Chamois Guy (a.k.a., my competition, and quite possibly my best buddy at the fair), had me sit outside with him and participate in a guided meditation, complete with a brook that babbled my pain right away from me.

My pain disappeared, and I survived. And about eight-thirty tonight, I got my surprise. Though not precisely the one I’d expected.

It’s good to have friends in the business. There are good people in this business.

Of course, I was so exhausted, I probably didn’t sell too many sponges. Let’s go find out. And let the daydreams slip away…

I have a dilemma

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

You see, it’s 11 days into the County Fair. The Alameda County Fair. And what a riot it’s been!! I can’t tell you. Attendance is down. No one’s buying anything. I want to blame the gas prices, but according to Patrick, “the fair can only be down twenty percent due to the economy.” Now that’s some flawless logic.

The other day the power in my building was out for two and a half hours because the mechanical bull blew up. “We take cash, check, or…um. Just cash or check.”

Didn’t sell any for those few hours.

But in general, it’s been great. I’ve learned to mix up my sponge demo a bit. Instead of sticking to “the Super Sponge acts more like a vacuum…”, I’m starting off with “Super Sponge saves the day!!” Way more exciting.

Oh, and my favorite hook line: “Three minutes of free entertainment. And I’m funny!! At least that’s what my mom says.”

Which is especially funny to me because my mom never said that, and she’s at the booth next door selling silk blankets. She can hear every word.

Yes, we’re really mixing it up at the County Fair–all thanks to the presence of my sister, who is rather reluctant to recite the sponge demo precisely the way I might suggest she should.

I’ve begun insinuating that many Americans–just like you!–move their furniture around to hide the stains in their carpet. I think it hits home.

But, anyway, my dilemma…

For the last few nights, I’ve been so exhausted, I haven’t been able to successfully drinka beer. As a result, I have a couple half or third empty beer bottles hiding under the bathroom sink. Dare I drink one?

Tonight I was cleaning my carpet,

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

and by cleaning, I mean rinsing out all the Diet Coke from this last weekend spent slinging sponges. I couldn’t find the Woolite, even though I recognize its amazing effect–my carpet just sparkles with clean!

So tonight I was rinsing my carpet, and I came to understand that not only does the Super Sponge really suck, but, no matter how badly one doesn’t want to take it, good advice is both always warranted and relevant.

More to come on my one year anniversary as a sponge sales woman.

I deeply and completely love and accept myself

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

About an hour ago, I was a high strung rats’ nest of nerves. I saw my mother earlier today while in a similar condition, and she took the opportunity to impress on me once again a system she and my father and probably others call EFT. It involves saying “Even though [insert issue or deep seated resentment], I deeply and completely love and accept myself” over and over again while banging on different pressure points. They remind me that the sequence of pressure points forms a question mark–a handy, and, for me, personally relevant mnemonic.

I have a lot to deal with this week. (On Thursday I abandon my newly acquired practically full time job to sell sponges for nine days at a Home and Garden Show in Denver, Colorado.) And, I’ve been hearing about this miraculous technique for so long. Seriously. I’d confide about my relationship pains and all they’d pay me was a sidelong glance and, “If only you tried EFT.” Or I’d relate to them how so and so is stuck in rehab, and they’d remark on how much more effective rehab would be if it were to incorporate EFT.

So I incorporated EFT. I’d been harboring this deep resentment for myself every since I lost one of my favorite–and only!–pair of silver hoop earrings (they were the perfect weight!) while making out at the bar with total strangers!! Why oh why must I make out in bars and lose earrings?! I asked myself over and over again. After all, this wasn’t the first time such an incident has occurred. So I tried it, “Even though I lost one of my favorite silver hoop earrings while making out at a bar with strangers, I deeply and completely love and accept myself.” Over and over again as I banged against those pressure points.

And it worked!! Then I had a number of other issues to work on, and now I’m awfully sore. But that’s okay. It just gives me more to work on. “Even though I beat myself up letting go of my issues using the miraculous EFT technique, I still love and accept myself.”

It’s the easiest way to let go of addictions: Replace them with new, healthier ones.

in a rare bout of personal accomplishment,

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

I cleaned two toilets today. Bowls and all.

I’ve always been afraid of toilets. For as long as I can remember, if I flush one at night, I run in terror back to bed. I just know my soul’s in danger.

It’s really only been in the recent years that I’ve been petrified of all things associated with toilets: germs… fecel matter… skin cells… urine… toilet water… even that little silver flusher. Er, especially that little silver fusher. It’s gotten pretty out of hand. But I did develop a useful skill: I can pee standing up. It’s indispensible in some public restrooms, and a good upper thigh workout.

Today I looked my mysophobia–my scatophobia–my molysomophobia–my panthophobia– all of ’em–straight in the eye, and I said, “Mysophobia! Scatophobia! Molysomophobia! Pan-whatever-phobia! You’ve been ruling my life for too long.”

And I donned my cleaning clothes, gloves, Super Sponges, doused the bathrooms in bleach and went at ’em. And boy are they shiny.

Then I showered and put the clothes I was wearing in a plastic bag. They’ll go out with the trash this Thursday.

Just kidding.

A call to duty

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

Yesterday I got the message.

Today I got the call.

I’d been waiting for this call, wondering about it. The available Spring home shows. My assignment. My duty.

“…nine days selling the Silk Blanket. Not a very good show though…no expenses*…a few weekend shows in your area…we’re putting the Sponge into those…”

Now, I love the Silk Blanket. It’s like sleeping on a cloud! Warm in the winter, cool in the summer. But it has stiff competition in the Pacific Northwest–another blanket booth. Another silk blanket booth. We discuss it and decide it might be better to put in the Sponge instead. I’m better than that girl they had doing it last year, so even though the show’s not so great, the money should be better. Of course the Super Chamois will be there. (Parts 2 , 3.) It always is.

Now, truth be told, I’ve missed the Super Sponge. Even the blue ones. The twelve hour work day**, strange life-out-of-a-suitcase-urban-camping experience. They’re so absorbant, and I’m so prepared. I have an electronic tea kettle for brewing at the booth and a cooler for my kombucha. I have batteries for my very own microphone and Ginkgo Royal Jelly energy pills.

Rejoicing in the prospect of delivering my sponge demo ad infinitum for at least a few days next year, I rehearsed it along my way to work–straight to work but jabbering like a loony. “Try a hot one on your face, it feels incredible!*” It was a good practice as I was damn rusty. But not nearly as bad as the other day when I tried my LL Cool J rap in the shower. That shit was pathetic.

Yes, 2006 Spring Home Fairs, I’ll be there. I need a vacuum, and there’s always the lure of the Euro Steam. It turns out my current boss is a brunette with a blonde streak or two.***

*total lie
**dramatization

Little Guy

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

I drive a 1990 Ford Ranger. He’s a good truck, however tempermental. He has a good engine, though he really doesn’t like to go over 20 miles per hour for the first twenty minutes he’s driving, especially in cooler weather. He also doesn’t like it when we call him “Little Guy”, which unfortunately is his name.

The other day he got his front left wheel stuck on a train track. A busy train track. Surrounded by rocks. The trains using this train track have been waking me up for days now–at all hours of the night. It is now four a.m., and I am confident that I, my roommate, and my vehicle, are in danger of annihilation.

I assure you, this situation has nothing to do with me, the driver. And everything to do with Little Guy’s negative attitude. He thought he’d get to see the ocean from his spot in the Ventura County Fair parking lot, and unfortunately this didn’t turn out to be the case.

Regardless, here I am, without a room in Ventura, and my truck is stuck on the train tracks. I may or may not be partially drunk. The tires are spinning, I can smell the rubber in the cab. I am definitely nearly hysterical. The truck won’t move, and we empirically ascertain that a truck just too heavy to lift.

Finally I insist on calling the police. My roommate insists on leaving. It turns out, for whatever reason, that she’s on probation. Not that I would hold that against anyone. I might, however, hold it against her that she lost the key to the motel room that we paid for in cash. She must have lost it in the motel parking lot, for only that could explain how the people who were in our room had gotten in there. It was her birthday though, and I incurred my portion of the two hundred dollar loss in respect for her continual existence.

A long story short, miracles happen, and Little Guy, however scarred, is freed from the train tracks. No one died, however perilous the evening. And the five hour stay in a motel that night only cost me a mere hundred and sixty dollars.

As young as I might be, I will never trust anyone else with travel arrangements. That is my lesson. That and train tracks are actually quite tall. Who knew?

Tonight a fellow says to me, “You look like a train ran you over.” I found the irony hilarious, though he was merely referring to my obvious exhaustion.