Back to the Fruistand III

Well. I sure didn’t see this coming, but we are in a recession so I suppose nothing as far as job opportunities should surprise me at this point. Heck, at this point I could see myself dressed up as the Statue of Liberty and waving my sign along the streets of Ballard as I lure passers by into Liberty Tax Service for a free consultation. In other words, I got my old job back at the fruit stand. After going to college for 4 years and getting a degree you really hope that you don’t end up back at your first job. However, due to my lack of other options and that fact that if I had to ask one more non English speaking person who forgot their ID at “home”(AKA Tijuana) if they wanted to join the Macy’s Star Rewards Program I may have gone plum loco.

It’s really not so bad being back. I started the job in early April after my old boss called me up because he had heard from my old coworker Charlotte that I was looking for work. After explaining the position he told me exactly why I would be great for the job. “Well Rob, I know you won’t steal from me. The old women who come in to the store just love you. And you’re under the age of 60.” This may be the only time in my life where I am practically over qualified for a job. How could I refuse?? Plus he offered to pay me more than Macy’s, and money talks. Also, the thought of getting my arms back in shape was a rather appealing thought. You see a big part of my day at work revolves around me scooping ice cream for the customers, which gives the old gun show quite a work out. Well, at least my right arm that I scoop with is slowly getting back to Michelle Obama arms status. The left arm still looks about as solid as a pile of undercooked pancakes. Luckily, watermelon season is coming up which will hopefully evenly tone everything out.

My one big fear with taking the job was thought of what it would do to my waistline. You see, although on the outside I may appear bronzed and toned with an eight-pack you could bounce quarters off of, deep inside I am secretly a fat kid. Thus being surrounded by tons of candies, cheeses, salami, and the best ice cream in the world (Upqua to be precise) can prove challenging. All I can say is God bless the woman who invented spanks. The first summer I worked at the fruit stand I consumed roughly a quart of Huckleberry Chessecake/ Pralines N’ Cream a day which caused me to gain roughly 10-15 pounds in less than 2 months. It wasn’t pretty and I have tried to limit myself to one to 2.5 scoops a week but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this sort of self control.

One of the things that really drove me crazy about my last job at Macy’s were the high maintenance customers who seemed to flock to my check out stand like a moth to the flame. And although it’s definitely less of a problem these days I still get to deal with the joys of retail. The biggest problem with the fruit stand is having to on a daily basis explain the whole bathroom situation to a bunch of female overactive bladders. You wouldn’t believe the looks women have given me when I tell them that our restroom is a portable located in the parking lot. They always give me these disgusted and shocked looks as they slowly walk away shaking their heads. I don’t get it!? I mean what’s really the big deal. You’d think I was asking them to pop a squat outside against the Maple Tree and use the fallen leaves as toilet paper?! Come one people. There are kids in third world countries who give up their pair of brand new TOMS shoes to have that honey bucket as their bathroom so let’s take a chill pill and don’t forget to use the hand sanitizer on your way out.

Aside from el banjo, there’s always gonna be that one person who’s unhappy with our products. The other day a man came in with a more than half eaten bag of caramel pecan popcorn and before slamming it down on the counter he had he audacity to tell me that he had bought it yesterday and that it “tasted old”. Considering the fact that he himself was old and had taste buds that probably have less than 5% of battery life left in them I assumed he was just looking for a freebie and I was not about to give in. After several seconds of awkward eye contact I think he started to read between the lines that I wasn’t about to just give him a new bag. So I asked him if he minded if I try it. I told him I found it to be delicious and quickly finished the rest of the bag before he stormed out without as much of a “enjoy your evening” or “thanks for your help”. Of course now that I think about it that was probably a poor life choice. He definitely isn’t a regular and he totally could have roofied the caramel corn, thus causing me to wake up in an old grain elevator with my brand new pair of Keen's nowhere to be found, 52 missed calls, 35 voicemails, and 10 picture messages of Elly sleeping. All from my mother, of course. Let’s be real, you just can’t trust anyone these days...even if they do look like they’re a member of the Country Club.

Shortly after this incident another old man and his son came in. After asking the man several times if he needed help finding anything and being blatantly ignored, the son told me that his dad was looking for a tomato plant. Something had obviously crawled up the old man’s butt and died that morning and I almost asked him if maybe that’s where his beloved tomato plant had gone but held my tongue because I can’t afford to lose this job. “Sorry we’re totally out of those right now”, I politely explained. “But Kmart is about a mile down the road and they have wonderful lawn and garden center with quite a selection” The old man whipped around and retorted,” Now you know g-damn well that Kmart’s got nothin’ but shitty plants that ain’t gonna do squat once you plant them in the ground. “Well actually I didn’t know that” I replied. “I’ve actually always been a big fan of the blue light specials, and in fact I just found a beautiful pin striped pant suit from the Kathy Ireland Collection last weekend that’s just to die for. Forget the fact that it’s a thread count of 20 that feels like a burlap sack against my skin, because I haven’t had this many compliments since I bought my size 6 Gloria Vanderbuilt shorts at a random Goodwill in Alabama!”

If you haven’t noticed yet, I deal with a lot of old people on a daily basis. I would say that nearly 50% of my customers are over the age of 65. Most of them require a shopping cart, not to fill with food items mind you, but because without it they would collapse onto the floor within two steps down the antique isle. I keep telling my boss we could make a fortune selling tennis balls for all of our regulars to put on their walkers. I could even bedazzle them on really slow days….he’s not totally sold on the idea, but give it time and he will see the light. More often than not my interactions with these adorable old men and women can lead to nothing but hilarious/confusing conversations. Conversations such as women telling me how much they would love to buy a bag of salt water taffy but they know their husbands will find it and they just can’t afford to buy them any more crowns for their teeth. Then there was the lady with her toy poodle who for no reason whatsoever felt it was necessary to convince me that her dog absolutely loved asparagus. After several moments of practically shoving a whole stalk of asparagus down the dog’s throat, it proceeded to regurgitate his so called favorite vegetable all over my recently mopped floor. I was not amused. One of my recent and enlightening convos happened as I was scooping some ice cream and the woman waiting in line was explaining to me in a very concerned and alarmed voice that Mexicans are taking over McDonald’s. She was adamant that the white people who needed those jobs at the drive thru window were being thrown to the curb due to this underground Latino based conspiracy. I proceeded to give her directions to the nearest Red Box where I gave her specific instructions to rent the documentaries “A Day Without A Mexican” and of course “Super Size Me” cuz gurrls not doing herself any favors by having a sausage McMuffin every day of the week.

Elly & I

It’s happened. My prayers were answered. Either that or my parents are experiencing the early onset of dementia. Regardless, I have a Wire Haired Pointing Griffon puppy named Elly Mae Sesser. Well, she’s not just mine, it’s “the families” but let’s be real, I’m obviously the most fun person in the group and therefore her favorite. I’m honestly still in a state of shock that my parents decided to get another dog, Especially after they swore seven years ago when they got rid of the two dogs I had grown up with to never get another. Their names were Jasmine and Lady, and yes growing up I did name all of my animals after characters from whatever happened to be my current favorite movie…i.e. Lady and the Tramp, and Aladdin. I usually stuck with the Disney theme except for when I named my first goldfish Curly. You know, in reference to the main character from the Broadway Rogers and Hammerstein smash hit musical known as Oklahoma??? Yeah. I was a big fan at the age of seven. What can I say? I matured early in life. So seeing as this was going to be my Dad’s dog I figured I should let him name it, especially since my current favorite Disney movie is Tangled and I don’t know how I feel yelling out the name Rapunzel on a crowded street. My dad played around with the idea of naming her Francy for a while but on the drive back from her birthplace of Yelm, Washington, we both felt that Elly was a better fit.

I’ve always been a dog person for as long as I can remember. Cats just weren’t my thing. The first of two cats we had growing up was named Feliz and she was an absolute terror. That mean ol’ furball used to hide around corners just waiting for me to come walking by, minding my own damn business, before she would jump out and attack me without warning. This usually caused me to drop the raspberries I had spent all morning collecting which then sent me into a fit of tears and muffled sobs as a lay in the fetal position surrounded by a crimson pool of raspberry juice. I was a little dramatic in those days. Then there was Amy. Too be honest I did enjoy having her around. She loved to be petted and you always knew when you were scratching her favorite spots because she would start to salivate at an alarming rate. Things didn’t end too well with Amy because after she went missing for a week I happened to stumble across the remnants of a calico tail and two hind feet that in their mangled state look all too familiar. Damn possums. I’m still attending counseling sessions to help me get past this traumatic event. Thus you can see why I’ve stuck with dogs. Growing up in a small rural town, I was actively involved in the group known as 4-H and I decided to give the whole dog show thing a try. Not to toot my own horn or anything but I will say that Jasmine and I did pretty well back in the day. Yes, you may have read in the papers that we were the Grand Champions at the 1996 Walla Walla County Fair Dog Show. And yes, I was wearing an original fitted vest made by my mother that had fabric with puppies all over it that felt like it could have been used to reupholster a dining room chair. Fit like a freakin glove. The best part about dog shows was that sometimes the local television news stations would come by and take footage of Jasmine and I. Well mainly Jasmine. It usually resulted in full body shots of Jasmine while only my butt in my super tapered 90’s jeans was seen. Hey, like I’ve said before, I’ll take any sort of 15 minute of fame I can get.

Back to the present, life with Elly in the beginning was so easy. She was travel size. Easy to lift. Slept 23 hours out of the day. Enjoyed cuddling and waching Disney animated movies with me. She showed signs of understanding that we appreciated it when she peed and pooped in the grass OUTSIDE. Every single thing that she did was out of control cute. Even her little puppy farts made me giggle. Myyyyy oooh Myyyyyyy how quickly things change. These days I feel like a single mother raising a bipolar autistic child. SHE. IS. OUT. OF. CONTROL. She’s got what you might call an oral fixation in that she’s constantly trying to puncture skin. Be it me, mama, papa, grandma, small child on the playground with baby fingers that appeared to be appetizers. We seriously don’t even know what to do about it at this point. We shut her mouth and grab her loose neck skin, which is what her Vet instructed us to do. We pin her down. We yell NOOOOO! We give her a time out in the kennel. Er’thing. Doesn’t give a damn. I’m on the verge of having to buy a Costco size bottle of Neosporin to keep up with the lacerations my poor body has suffered from her constant biting. The night before Easter Sunday she decided it would be cute to slash my forehead with her razor sharp teeth thus leaving me with my already bruised and battered body looking like a victim of domestic abuse. Luckily mom let me borrow some of her foundation so unless you were really close during the meet and greet at the Easter Service I don’t think you could really tell. But still. Ever since the whole thing happened with Rihanna and Chris Brown, people talk.

Now it’s not like its been all bad. She does have her moments. It has been fun having a copilot who doesn’t complain about my latest pop music fixation. She also just discovered the awesomeness of sticking her head out the window as I drive down the road. Unfortunately she doesn’t realize that if she falls out the window I won’t be able to catch her and she will die. Therefore I keep a pretty tight hold on her collar. She definitely loves people, although she has strange ways of showing it, and she always comes running up to me to have her chubby belly rubbed whenever I come home from work. She’s totally infatuated by my morning ritual of making drip coffee and one of these days I need to give her a sip so she realizes she’s not missing out on anything. Lately she’s become incredibly good as schmoozing it up whenever she gets scolded for doing something wrong. She’ll always retreat to her bed and look at you from across the room with those sad puppy dog eyes that make her look like her heart will explode into a million pieces if you don’t forgive her. It’s just so hard to stay made at her for long. But these days the thing I enjoy the most about Elly is our Hulu.com date nights where she is content to just sit on my lap as we watch episodes of Modern Family till our abs hurt from laughing. We both agreed that Mitchell’s comedic timing in the Lady Gaga episode was 110% dead on. Our only complaint would be the limited commercial interruptions concerning kids with cancer. I mean really Hulu??? Is it too much to ask for 20 minutes of ignorant bliss from the cold cruel world we live in where kids lose legs from cancer and can no longer ride their bicycles??????

Elizabeth Taylor

If you’ve browsed through any news source today you may have noticed that Elizabeth Taylor passed away this morning. I found out once when I saw the front page of CNN and as usual when I hear of a classic Hollywood stars passing I quickly slipped into a moment of intense grief and mourning. I don’t know what it is but whenever one of those old movie stars pass away I get all crazy emotional and it’s a total buzz kill to my day. You should have seen me on the days that Deborah Kerr and Charlton Heston passed away. I WAS A WRECK. A stranger would have thought they were my grandparents or something. This just goes to show that I wasn’t joking when I ‘ve claimed to have an unhealthy fascination with all things pop culture and celebrity. All I’m saying is that the day Britney Spears kicks it I will NOT be attending my daily game of Bingo at my retirement home in Palm Springs. Lord willing I go first because I’m not sure if my heart could take the pain.

So normally during these dark times I crave a good movie marathon as a way of remembering the movie legends and I’ve found it’s a healthy way to channel my grieving. Now since my parents are still using rabbit ears to get the news, I obviously won’t be tuning into the 24 Hour TCM Elizabeth Taylor marathon *Sigh* :’(. However we already have quite a few movies of hers and I even went out and rented Cleopatra and Butterfield 8, which I’ve never seen before so I’m super stoked. I was really hoping to add National Velvet to the marathon but after spending most of my morning scouring the shelves of Shopko, Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Bi-Mart, Hot Poop, and the public library I came out empty handed. It’s days like this that I loathe living in a small town because we have no selection! I was really surprised that Bi-Mart didn’t have it because 90% of their movies have a horse or John Wayne on the cover. I will give them this, they obviously know who their target audience is these days.

The main reason that I had my heart set on National Velvet is because it’s one of the first movies I remember seeing as a young tyke and and it was also the first movie starring Elizabeth Taylor. Even though it's been like 20 years I remember being super into it. I mean how could you not be? Elizabeth Taylor? Mickey Rooney? Angela Lansbury pre-animated teapot fame??? My first viewing of the movie was also around the time my mom’s favorite scent was White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor, what can I say she’s a classy lady, and I totally got it for her as a Christmas present one year. Since those days I’ve become much more acquainted with her film work such as Little Women, in which she is absolutely hilarious. A Place in a Sun, which is super good and she looks AMAZING and it stars one of my other favs, Montgomery Clift. Then there’s Giant, where she stars alongside Rock Hudson and James Dean. Another fav would be Cat on a Hot Tin Roof which was written by Tennessee Williams so how could it not be good?? But I really think the quintessential Liz movie would have to be Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf. It’s just so different from anything she ever did and it’s also what got her a second Academy Award. If you haven't seen any of these movies I've mentioned, shame on you. Fix it.

Now that I think about it I guess I can’t recall a time of life when I didn’t know about Liz which I guess is why a feel a tinge of sadness with her passing. It’s strange how we can grow attached to people we’ve never met. I remember hearing about a man who was interviewed in some documentary about film addicts and he said that the day Audrey Hepburn died was worse than when he’s lost family members. HOW CRAZY IS THAT! Hopefully I don’t ever get to that point….. however I will forever love Liz and be fascinated by her life. Her work as an artist. Her Beauty. Those violet eyes. Her private life dramas. And I mean I know that she made some poor life choices, eight marriages was a bit obsessive, but I mean we’ve all made mistakes. Above all else, I do truly admire her for the work she did raising money and awareness for the fight against AIDS during a time when people were very judgmental and unsympathetic to those affected by the disease.

RIP LIZ. You rock my socks off.

Idaho

Just got back from a 24 hour road trip to Boise, Idaho and it was a true delight. Due to the fact that the Walla Walla airport couldn’t convince enough people to take a direct flight to Boise on a daily basis, me and Lo (my new car) had to drive it. I had my reservations about making the 4 and a half hour journey because the last time I drove to Idaho I was pretty certain I was about to meet my maker. This was back in 2005 when my friends Heather, Michael, Meagan and I had all planned a Christmas road trip. The plan was to all meet in Nampa, Idaho where Meagan’s family lived and from there head to McCall to hit the ski slopes at Brundage Mountain Resort. This was the Christmas where I worked at Klicker’s Fruit Stand selling Christmas trees so I had to join the gang a few days later. Fortunately, at that time there actually was a flight from Walla Walla to Boise. Unfortunately, Walla Walla is in a constant state of fog during the winter, so of course my flight got cancelled. This upset me because I was really looking forward to the some mile high free time. I had just bought Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and was looking forward to hopping on the Hogwarts bandwagon. And if you know me at all you’ll know that it takes a Christmas miracle/ a stack of Bernstein Bear books to get me excited about reading so time was of the essence. Due to events out of my control I never had a chance to read the book, but I did see the movie. Which is basically the same thing, right??

With the cancelled flight I was left with no choice but to drive to Idaho, which my parents were not at all thrilled to hear. I was a lot more fearless when it came to winter driving back in those days. I attribute this to the fact that it occurred before the Christmas Break of ‘06 near death experience. It all went down a little bit outside of Ellensburg, WA on my way back to Seattle. Snow was coming down like crazy and the roads were incredibly slippy and nearly every five minutes you passed a car stuck in a snow bank. So there I was, driving Burt, just minding my own business. I was going through a huge Kelly Clarkson phase at the time and I remember I was belting “A Moment Like This” at the top of my lungs. Talk about ironic. All of sudden a big ol’ semi came out of nowhere so I decided to quickly but carefully change lanes, which would have been fine if there hadn’t been a patch of black ice that sent me and Burt spinning into a 360 before hitting the snow bank. Luckily I had spun to the left otherwise I would have crashed right into the semi truck. BTW, thanks God for throwing me a bone that day. Its been a real treat to go on living.

This past Monday I was all packed and ready to hit the open road but I had a feeling that I was beginning to battle a cold so I had to act fast. Over my dead body was I going to be sick on vacation. NOT TODAY ZURG!!!! NOT TODAY!!!! Thank the good Lord my parents had a stash of Airborne in my favorite flavor, key lime -- so I chugged that the whole way to Boise. Downside to that was the fact that I have the bladder of an 80-year-old man, thus I felt the urge to pee almost every half hour. As fate would have it, it quickly became apparent that Oregon and Idaho had a limited budget that allowed them to place rest areas about 50 miles apart. I’ll admit it. There were some close calls. And when I say close calls I mean my fly was down and I was reaching for my empty Wendy’s value menu cup to take care of business before my bladder exploded. At that very moment an angel appeared and placed a sign on the side of the road that read “Rest Area 2 Miles”. It was a total God thing.

This drive to Boise turned out to be quite the contrast compared to the drive of ‘05. This time the sun was shining in place of snow that my wipers could barely keep up with. If you’ve every attempted to drive up Cabbage Hill during the winter you know how bad it can get. It’s an incredibly steep incline and there are emergency exits every half-mile for semi trucks who aren’t able to stop. SCARY!! Oh and then to top it off, the whole drive up the hill you keep seeing signs for the exit called “Dead Man’s Pass”. Yeah, real comforting. What I want to know is who the hell thought that would be a good name for a highway? Who in their right mind would take it???? Another big help on this trip was my GPS. How I managed to arrive to any destination before getting this piece of technology I’ll never know. On the trip to Nampa, in place of a GPS I had about 10 pages of MapQuest instructions on how to get to Meagan’s house. They weren’t much help and I ended up getting majorly lost out on some backcountry road called Chicken Dinner Lane (I swear Idaho has the strangest street names) with the only landmark being a farm that raised Buffalo. Seriously, only in Idaho.

But despite the risk factors and ever-looming thoughts of death, road trips to Idaho have always resulted in nothing but fond memories such as:

· Watching my friend Michael get got off of a chair lift for the first time and while doing so knocking down two elderly woman. The best part was he hadn’t learned how to stop on skis so he couldn’t even get a chance to apologize.

· Going to Denny’s for breakfast and being served by a lady named Peaches who looked like she had been trapped inside a tanning bed for the past 30 years.

· Visiting Michael’s grandparents home in Fruitvale where Heather, while in the middle of taking a tinkle, was slightly alarmed to find a dog in the bathtub staring her down.

· Watching almost the entire second season of the OC with Meagan as Heather and Michael put a puzzle together. I know, I know, some people just don’t have their priorities straight.

· Attempting to make virgin pina coladas during the 3 hours it took to cook lasagna that was harder than a frozen tundra. Worst idea ever.

· Playing apples to apples and someone putting down Oprah, for the card Blank is the new Black. I nearly died laughing.

This weeks trip was no exception to fond memories as I got to spend nearly 24 hours with my dear friend Jess Miller who was on her spring break from the college where she works. We painted that town of Boise red, figuratively speaking. First we caught up on life at Rembrandt’s coffee before indulging in some retail therapy at the Macy’s clearance rack. I found a sexy new black polo for my next night on the town and Jess found a cute 60’s checkered dress. Meeeeeoooow. After shopping we saw the movie Tangled for 3 bucks, which was AMAZING. We laughed. We cried. Well…… at least I cried. Jess is so much stronger than I. Let me tell ya, there’s nothing like a Disney Princess in distress to turn on the ol’ waterworks. After that we grabbed dessert with our old friends Meagan and her husband Levi before taking in some local “night life”, if you could call it that, in downtown Boise. The night ended with us indulging in the guilty pleasure known as the season finale to “The Bachelor”. SO MUCH DRAMA. SO MUCH WATER PROOF MASQUERA. I was eating it up with a spoon.

The Rest is Still Unwritten

This blog post is dedicated to Robbie Williams who saved me from my snowed in predicament earlier today and took me on a much needed coffee run. You are a lifesaver and a gentleman.

Well this day certainly hasn’t turned out as planned. Woke up in the morning, feeling like P Diddy, without power, and literally snowed in at the house in Sisters, Oregon. Or I guess my car was snowed in. At first I figured the 5 inches of snow wouldn’t be a big deal but as I attempted to hit the open road my car got stuck before it had even left the driveway. The fact that the snow was deeper than the lowest point of my car didn’t really help the situation. After spending 30 minutes digging out the car and returning it to the garage I had built up quite the appetite. I opted for a cup of drip coffee and a peach Activia Yogurt that expired on January 29 because it was the only thing left in the house that was edible. That is, aside from a single slice of salami and some month old grapes that at this point could have qualified as raisins. As I impatiently waited for the snowplow man to make a visit to South Redwood Street, I figured I should seize the day and channel my emotions into a blog. I mean Jack Kerouac would have killed to be in this situation. Home that resembles a cabin in that it is made mainly of wood and is covered in black bear and moose decorations? No electricity? Far away from the lights of the city? Snowed in? His only complaint may have been the fact that the only alcoholic beverage in the house was a half bottle of cherry Nyquil.

Randomly, or as Jess Miller would correct me and insert the word IRONICLY, my friend Robbie just happened to be hanging out in the Sisters area for the morning and offered to pick me up and go grab some coffee. After a short jog to his car that was on road that was actually plowed, I got to spend a delightful half hour at the Sister’s Coffee House catching up on life. It was a nice distraction from the ever looming question of “HOW THE HELL AM I GONNA GET HOME AND HOW WILL MACY’S SURVIVE IF I’M NOT ABLE TO MAN THE ACCESSORIES COUNTER TOMMORROW??” Robbie had just driven me back to my development when I spotted it. The answer to all of my problems. THE SNOW PLOW. Running as fast as my little legs could carry me I approached the man in the plow and between large gasps of air and asthmatic wheezes I was able to somehow articulate that I needed his help. He said it was no problem and began work immediately. Then came of the challenge of getting my car out of the garage. Seeing as the power was out I had to do the whole damn thing manually and of course the garage door behind my car was jammed and not opening which left me with the other door as the only exit. I don’t know if any of you have ever tried maneuvering a car around in a two-door garage with a divider in the center but let me tell ya, IT AIN’T EASY. I basically had to rearrange the entire garage to allow for my ninja like maneuvers and after several minutes of multiple crazy moves and even more really really loud exclamations of four letter words I was free and homeward bound.

To put it lightly, the past 48 hours have been a whole lotta crazy. First off, as many of you know I sold Burt. I hated to do it but all good things must come to an end and at 130,000 miles he was having trouble keeping up with my fast paced A-List lifestyle. I put up a Craigslist ad and within a few hours a man named Mike had called and said he wanted to have a look at Burt. Now I had never sold anything online before and I had some reservations about meeting with a complete stranger so I told him to meet me near the duck pond at Pioneer Park. I figured someone would see or hear my screams if he did in fact turn out to be the next Craigslist killer. I called Mama Sesser to notify her as to my whereabouts and assured her that if I ended up missing that she should dredge the pond for my body but not to plan for an open casket funeral. As a precaution, mama also decided to take on the roll of undercover cop by circling the perimeter of the park as Mike and I went on a test drive. At one point we drove past her but we played it cool and didn’t acknowledge each other’s existence. I didn’t want to blow her cover. Mike and his wife loved the car, and especially their Labradoodle who also came along for the ride. They made an offer and even threw in a bottle of wine so it was pretty hard to refuse. I will admit that I shed a few tears on my way to drop Burt off at his new home and it was slightly concerning how attached I had become to an inanimate object during our ten years together. And Burt, if you’re reading this, don’t you ever for a second get to thinking you’re replaceable.

Fairly soon after selling Burt, I located a car that I REALLY wanted. It was a blue Toyota Matrix located right outside of Monterey, California. My mom had talked to a salesman named Ray when we had first inquired about the car. Ray had also notified my mom that he would be gone for the weekend and said that he would pass our information off to Kent if we decided to come down on Sunday. When I called Friday a salesman named Sal answered and I asked to speak with Kent but Sal said that he could take care of the sale. BAD DECISION. He told me the car was available for us to check out so I booked flights for a little father son trip down to California. That’s when the poop hit the fan. Right as I stepped onto the Butts Acura (yep its really called BUTTS) parking lot I came face to face with Kent who wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me.

KENT: Are you the people from Washington?

Me: Yes

KENT: I sold the car you wanted to my nephew.

Me: Really??? Because Sal told me yesterday it was still here and we just flew in…

Kent: I talked to your mom Cathy, and you had an appointment to meet with me on Friday and you didn’t show.

Me: That’s impossible, I never planned on being here on Friday.

At that point I was beyond irritated by Kent’s existence and I could sense the feeling was mutual so we simply started walking in opposite directions. Then I ran into Sandra who had to keep her sunglasses on while she talked to me because she had a super gross eye infection from a contact lens. I told her how Kent had informed me that the car sold. She told me there had been some miscommunication and the car was still mine if I wanted it. The only problem was they had no idea where the car was located. You see my new BFF KENT had lent it to his nephew to “try out” for a few days (AKA he was trying to take the sale away from SAL). They had been calling the nephew but he wasn’t answering their calls. I assumed this was because he was halfway across the Mexican border as we spoke or possibly being filmed from a helicopter on a high speed freeway chase that I would see the next time I tuned into COPS. All this I kept that to myself. Sandra apologized profusely and recommended a motel for us to stay at. Said it was called The Lone Oak Motel and that it was really nice place. We went to check out the motel and I kid you not it looked like the motel from the movie "Joy Ride" where everybody almost dies from the crazed trucker killer in the end. I told Dad that no way in hell was I staying there. Luckily there was a Quality Inn just down road. Unluckily, we came to the realization at 11 o’ clock that night that it was located a block away from the Monterey Airports runway.

Later that afternoon I got a phone call. It was from Mr. Butts himself. He must have apologized for a few minutes before I could even get a word in edgewise. He claimed that something like this had never happened in the history of his 150 year old business and that Butt’s Acura was the second oldest car dealership west of the Mississippi. I wasn’t really surprised. The building itself looked practically pre-civil war and was in need of a serious makeover. I’ve never seen a grown man grovel, but Mr. Butts was on his knees (figuratively, I couldn’t actually see him) begging for forgiveness. He also said they had located the vehicle, whether or not it was in Mexico was never confirmed, and that it was mine if I still wanted it. Being the bigger man I accepted his apology and went in the next morning to pick up the car. I was still feeling a little bit annoyed with the way Kent had acted and for his sake I’m glad we didn’t run into each other again. In preparation I had done 14.5 girl pushups in the hotel room that morning and I was ready to BRING IT ON if he so much as looked at me.

Through all the drama, I ended up getting the car and I am now a proud own of a metallic blue, Toyota Matrix. It’s so hot. Or I should say SHE’S so hot. I named her Lo. And yes, it is in reference to Lauren Condrad’s BFF Lo Bosworth of The Hills and Laguna Beach fame and bestselling author of “The Lo Down”. I picked the name for several reasons. Firstly, to say I LOVE The Hills would be a huge understatement. Secondly, she’s a California Girl. Thirdly, on the drive back to Washington I may have listened to the show’s theme song “Unwritten” on repeat for more miles than I care to admit. Fourthly, just like Lo on the show, my Lo knows how to create her own bit of drama, even if it was on a used car lot. And lastly, I’ve found myself really identifying with Lauren Conrad these days. More so Season 5 Lauren. You see, just like Lauren I’m entering a transitioning period of life. Just like Lauren had to move on from her treasured memories on The Hills, I too will always cherish my memories with Burt. But I’m ready for some new adventures wherever they await. Be it as an aspiring career as a reality television star? A new home? A new relationship? As they say, the rest is still unwritten.

Oh, the Magic of Macy's

The holiday season has finally come to a close, which has meant much rest and recuperation from my first holiday retail job. I feel that I’ve earned it. I hadn’t really planned on taking a job at Macy’s but seeing as job offers weren’t exactly raining like manna from heaven (and gin and tonics don’t pay for themselves) I decided making minimum wage over the Christmas season could have its perks. My favorite department I got to work in was definitely Men’s. Probably because I actually knew what the hell I was talking about when a customer had a question. My favorite part of the job was helping poor, tired, run down housewives who’s husbands were too lazy to come in and pick out their own flannel shirt. It wasn’t always easy and I definitely had some tough questions thrown at me, but I thrived on a good challenge and I feel like I may have found my newest spiritual gift that isn’t parallel parking. Example: Randomn, stressed out woman walks up to me and asks me, “What kind of sweater would you buy for someone who sells Subaru’s????” Piece of cake. Showed her a nice Izod green with grey stripes sweater. SHE. LOVED. IT. I told her I felt it was “very Oregon”. Call me what you like. A Miracle Worker? Rachel Zoe? I’ll answer to both.

One of the things that first drew me to the job at Macy’s was the fact that I had just begun reading “Holidays on Ice” by David Sedaris where he details his experience working as an elf at Macy’s. Sadly Walla Walla can’t afford the price/space to house Santa’s Workshop so my dreams of following in David’s tiny elf footsteps were quickly doused. HOWEVER, I did have my fair share of rubbing elbows with Christmas Royalty. Perhaps you’ve heard of the woman they call Mrs. Clause?? I first noticed her in the Ralph Lauren section thumbing through some red x-large sweaters. She came up to me and asked me what else I had in red. She was a little perturbed that our store didn’t carry any Tommy Bahama and I neglected to tell her that it was probably a blessing in disguise. She told me she was going to a party with her husband that night and then clarified that she was actually married to Santa. I laughed. Thought she was probably kidding….she wasn’t. She looked at me and blurted, “no really, he was in the parade this year”. Now unless memory fails me, I don’t recall the chapter in “Holidays on Ice” where David Sedaris helped Mrs. Clause pick out a holiday sweater for Ol’ Saint Nick. Do you? Yep. That’s what I thought. One point Rob Sesser. Zero points David Sedaris.

One of the downsides to working retail is the fact that you hold all the customers answers, or at least you pretend to, and every so often you become the bearer of bad news. One incident that sticks out in my mind involved having to tell a man 10 minutes before we closed on Christmas Eve that the coupons he brought in didn’t apply to the shoulderless Guess shirt he was hoping to buy. I thought he would take the news well. The men usually do, however English was obviously not his primary language and I’ve become a little rusty on my Spanish. I blame it on the fact that my first Spanish teacher was more concerned about finding the soonest opportune moment to slip another shot of tequila into his coffee versus teaching me how to conjugate. Regardless, nobody likes to be told that in fact they will not be saving $50 on said purchase. After some awkward blank stares and me trying my best to speak slowly and use very large gestures he threw me a bit of a curve ball by looking me square in the eyes as he ripped to shreds all his coupons before handing them back to me to be thrown away. Feliz Navidad??

But as anyone who’s ever worked in customer service knows, the hardest part of the job is dealing with an unhappy customer. My favorite tactic for dealing with rude and self obsessed customers is to be overly friendly. Kill them with kindness, ya know I mean? It’s an old habit I picked up from my Starbucks days. So when miss sass came up to my counter and told me she needed a gift receipt for a purchase she had made yesterday I knew there would be trouble. I explained to her that the only way to get her a gift receipt would be for her to return the items and repurchase them. You could have heard a pin drop in that room the moment I laid down the news.

Crazy person: “IT”S NOT MY FAULT!!!!”, she repeatedly snapped.

Me: “Yes I realize that ma’am, but it will only take a few minutes to make the return”.

Gurrl didn’t have a few minutes. Gurl had places to go! People to see! Every moment with me was moment missed on Days of our Lives. She snatched the receipt from my sweaty palm and power walked it out to the back parking lot only to return shortly with all the items and a credit card. If looks could kill I’m not sure that I would have made it to my final 15-minute break. While making the exchange, I received nothing but constant glares, loud sighs and uncomfortable grunts. I put the items and the gift receipts inside the bag, put a big smile on my face and said, "Sooooooooo sorry about that, thanks for shopping at Macy’s, HAVE A GREAT DAY!!" That was the last thing she wanted to hear, and boy did I love saying it.

Seeing as it was the season of giving it was a lot of fun helping people find gifts for their loved ones and I just have to say that I now think that kids buying presents for their parents is the most adorable thing EVER. For one thing, they never know how much money to give you, their parents are always nearby pretending not to notice, and they buy the most random things; such as the little boy who bought his mom a popcorn maker. Not a bad choice considering I had just sold a shiny, glitter, camouflage purse to a dad who was buying it for his kids to give their mom for Christmas. It takes a special kind of woman to love a purse that ugly…I really hope that’s what she wanted cuz that gift could easily have ended that marriage. Anyways, poor little guy had a big boy wallet that was a bit snug inside his little boy skinny jeans pocket so we spent about a minute trying to get the damn thing out. Luckily there wasn’t a line behind him otherwise I may have resorted to grabbing my scissors and cutting it out. Desperate times call for desperate measures and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I make my sales goal for the day.

Burt

An old friend has returned to my life. His name is Burt. For those of you who don't know, Burt is my Rav4 who after spending the past year being neglected and living under an old pine tree, is finally insured! Thanks Geico. Now that i have a job and recently turned 25, I figured I could probably afford the monthly rate which has gone down by 20 bucks since a year ago. Sometimes growing older and not being incarcerated within the past 5 years can really pay off!

I'm actually really excited to be able to drive Burt again because even though he is getting on in years (he's a '97), has butt dents on his roof (my friends and i used to sit on him while watching summer lightening storms), has touchy dashboard lights that only come on when I pound the dash with my fist, and takes roughly 2 minutes to go from 0-60 (this has caused some tense situations on major highways), he's been my most faithful companion through the past decade. It took quite a few years for me to actually come up with a name for Burt. I think it was actually my old roommate Sam who named him as we were listening to the song "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" on our way back to Walla Walla from Seattle during a break from school. I think the artists name was Burt and the name seemed to fit. Strangely most of my close friends now know him by name and often ask me how he's doing. During recent visits to Seattle several friends would ask where Burt was or complain that it just wasn't the same not having him along for the ride. Even more strange is that in recent years when alone in the car I found myself having one sided conversations with Burt about my day or how I'm feeling. And this is why I should really look into getting a dog...beta fish...antfarm...therapist.

The picture shown above is of Burt and I back in 2001, right after we first found each other. Back when I had a size 26 pant waist, had a whole lot more hair, and was about to celebrate my sweet 16. And yes, this picture was taken with a Poloraoid Camera because we were and still are the original hipsters. Deal with it. Me and the parents were about to leave for Portland to go car shopping when Mama Sesser spotted him driving through the Safeway parking lot with a for sale sign. Destiny. We bought him that day and I was beyond ecstatic because like every other 40 year old soccer mom, I had always dreamed of owning a Rav4. You think I'm joking. I begged my parents to let me sleep in the back seat the first night that we brought him home but they told me that was weird and that I'd catch pneumonia. They were probably right, I did suffer from a very weak immune system at the time.

I've had many wonderful memories with Burt such as a road trip to Disneyland, several first dates, the drive through window at Wendy's, high school dances, driving down the highway singing Kelly Clarkson's "A Moment Like This" as we spontaneously spun a 360 off of the highway into a snowbank while narrowly escaping death by an oncoming semi truck......... Burt has also gone through some rough times. We almost lost him during the winter of '09. I was at a funeral in California when a tree fell right on top of the poor lil guy. For some reason my roommates at the time, who shall remain nameless, (their names rhyme with Dusty and Austin and if you have any knowledge as to their whereabouts....) didn't feel the need to tell me this small detail. Even after parking the car AND watching the tree fall. I found out the old fashioned way. A friend wrote on my Facebook wall and said they'd seen Burt on the morning news and hoped he was ok. Good ol Burt, we are so much alike. We'd do anything to get on the local news. And I mean AN.Y.THING.

So today, after hanging up with Geico I waded my way through snow drifts to the back of the house where Burt has been living and of course all the doors were frozen shut except the back one. After maneuvering over the seats in my snow boots and parka and pulling several muscle groups along the way, I put the key in the ignition only to find out the battery was dead. Luckily Papa Sesser was home on his lunch break and offered to tow Burt to the driveway. Once there I poured copious amounts of boiling hot water onto the hood of the car thus allowing me the ability to pry it open and jump start the battery. I am happy to report now that Burt is as good as new and getting a well deserved night in the Sesser garage. That little trooper has certainly earned it.