Up-chuck

This blog has been a long time coming and is about exactly what you think it's about. No, "up-chuck" is not a cute euphemism for something else completely not vomit related.

I'm going to tell you children a tale about the time when I blew chunks on myself at work. I'm going to try and make this as un-gross as humanly possible, but I do want you to feel my pain. Let's see if we can find a balance, shall we? If you have a weak stomach, move along.

I got to work one morning and I was in a cold sweat, which should have been a tip-off that I wasn't going to be OK that day, but no. I continued about my day as normally as possible, which proved to be relatively difficult considering I was laying my head on the tops of hangers just to cool off every four minutes. All my co-workers think I'm normal.

For clarity's sake (and because it will matter later) I was working with two other girls covering three sections of the store.

All of a sudden, I began to salivate. You guys all know exactly what I'm talking about. When you know you're going to throw up and you start to panic.

Good God, please don't let this happen.

So, I quickly ran to the bathroom, which, of course, is on the complete opposite side of the store. By the time I got there, my nausea had completely gone away. Oh, the irony.

So, I went back to my section and one of the girls I work with had just gotten back from lunch and brought me a bottle of water. I have work friends now.

I began to put clothes away and then a customer asked me to check her out, so we made our way over to the register.

The rest of the story goes something like this.

"How did you want to pay for *heave*...."

(long awkward silence because neither one of us wants to acknowledge what just happened)

"How did you want to pay for this?"

My life is an absolute joke.

All of a sudden I start sweating profusely and the room starts spinning. Cue the customer going into a long and detailed debate with herself on whether or not she should pay credit or cash.

Dry heave.

Shit.

I'm shaking at this point as I'm trying to put all of this customer's clothes in her bag. I barely manage to blurt out a "thank you" before I started sprinting to the restroom.

One thing I never ever do is run in public. Not like recreational running, but if I have to get somewhere in a hurry and I'm fully dressed, the best I will do is speed-walk. Mostly because I make fun of people who run through places that aren't gyms.

I made an exception here.

I begin to quickly walk out of my section...

Dry heave.

Oh, Jesus.

Keep on keepin' on, Syd.

Dry heave....

This is a joke. This is all a joke.

NOT dry heave

And just like that, I threw up into my own mouth. At this exact moment, I'm power walking at a relatively fervent pace past the MAC counter with my hand plastered over my mouth. My friend from training, Estrella, takes one look at me and says, "Are you OK?"

I shook my head. "HMRRPHHFHMMRFFF," which, apparently, means "no" in throw up.

I realize that I have a mouthful of vomit, and my body is NOT stopping. I will not make it to the bathroom at this pace, so I start to jog.

Heave.

WHERE THE HELL IS THE DAMN BATHROOM?!

I look over and see a door to the parking lot by the shoe department. Bingo. I decide I'm going to go outside and throw up like an animal. Maybe after all is said and done, I can eat some grass to make my tummy feel better.

I finally make it over to door, bust outside, and let go....all over my own clothes. I'm standing outside, legitimately crying from embarrassment since this is the first time I've thrown up sober in a long time. As I look up, I notice a man across the street standing by the parking garage. He walks over, hands me the towel around his neck and says, "You need it more than I do."

At this point, I'm dying. Covered in my own vomit and shame, I walk to the bathroom and rinse what I can out of my clothes.

Everyone in the bathroom watches me because we all know damn well what just happened to the poor, short, brunette girl standing by the sink with the mangled towel and smelling like ass.

Then, I have to go BACK TO WORK after tossing my cookies and wait until the other girl gets back from lunch. This takes about an hour

I then go to the offices and ask to go home.

Me: "I just got sick outside the shoe department. I'm sure there's footage of me on the security cameras."

Administrator: "That's going to be one attendance point, though. If you get three of those, you lose your position."

Me: "Would you like to smell me?"

And that's the story of how I blew grits all over myself and I'm pretty sure on one woman's shoes as I was making my way outside. I hope it was appreciated by the 4 people who read this blog.

Obsession: Snuggies. They really are the shit.

I call bullshit on the magic of Macy's

Alright guys. I work at Macy's now. I have for about 2 weeks.

That being said, I freaking hate my life. You might ask, "Why, Sydney? Why would you hate your life in a place that makes it seem like a magical wonderland is right behind the doors of the shoe department?"

Well, because Macy's uses false advertisement. There is no magical wonderland hiding Donald Trump and J. Lo behind the doors of the shoe department stock-room. All that's hiding there is a bunch of shoes and baby cockroaches.

The main reason I hate being at Macy's (other than the physical exhaustion) is that I have no friends. I think I could enjoy the mind-numbing work if I had someone who liked me there, but I don't.

My coworkers make me feel like a total idiot. Specifically one woman who states incredibly obvious things to me all day long like she's curing cancer and I'm just scratching my balls and handing her test tubes.

Now, I'm not going to say her name. We'll call her G.

Here's how a normal conversation with G goes.

(as I bring out a sweater and a hanger from the dressing room)

G: 'Ay. You know you gotta hang that up before you put it back on the rack, right?

Me: *cue blank stare and internal eruption of emotions*

NO SHIT?! I have to hang something before I put it back on a rack? Is this real life?

Now that may not sound so bad, but it can wear on a sista after a while.

As I was walking past G one day, she stuck her leg out on "accident" and tripped the shit out of me. Like full-on cartoon tripping. I ask her if she is OK, to which she replies with a grunt and an eye-roll. No don't mind me. I was just walking and you happened to ram your foot right in to my shin. Glad you're doing fine.

Guys, I only have three goals in life.

1. Be in a flash mob

2. Have a bulldog named Rosie

3. Catch someone having sex in a dressing room a publicly humiliate them/have them arrested.

That's all. That's why I took this job. And to make a little money.

There are two hispanic women I work with, and the rest are black. And so as not to offend everyone, I don't dislike black people. I am merely pointing out a phenomenon I've noticed.

All the black women I work with are some type of Jamaican. They aren't ghetto in any way (except for one who says phrases like "I loves me some fried chicken" and "Have you had the lunch combo at Target?" Why, no. No I haven't.) and I find it very interesting.

One of my co-worker's name is so complicated, she just goes by Chi Chi which, coincidentally, is also what I call my vagina.

I had one woman get angry at me because I couldn't find linen pants in her size (which was a size 0, for the record). I'm sorry, but you're a size 0. EVERY PAIR OF PANTS IN THIS DAMN STORE WILL LOOK GREAT ON YOU. Go away. Also, I don't make nor do I order the pants. It's not my fault we don't have them. Plus, linen makes everyone look terribly sloppy. I'm doing you a favor by not knowing how to do a look-up in the system.

Another woman spent close to $800 on clothes and then got mad at me for being unable to get her $10 off coupon to work. She then said to one of my coworkers that she needed someone else to help her because "clearly this transaction is too complicated for this one." This one. Like I'm some sort of hamster at a pet store....on clearance. Is the $10 going to make much difference to you in the long run? Really?

So basically I hate my life. I have one quasi-friend. She's a ginger so that's sort of a problem, but I'll take what I can get.

Pretty sure she has me on suicide watch because every time I make fun of myself or say I'm an idiot, she gets genuinely concerned and tells me not to be so hard on myself. Sweet, but I don't actually think I'm an idiot.

Also, I locked a woman out of a dressing room while she had no pants on. Can we say awkward?

So far, I've come to discover that Macy's is basically the Walmart of department stores. I would say Kmart, but JC Penney has that covered.

That's all for now!

Obsession of the day: Maury Povich

Baco-no-they-di'int!

The theme today is white trash, kids.

The problem with America, aside from the raging amounts of national debt multiplying like a bored trailer park kids’ offspring and Sarah Palin, is the overwhelming amount of people from other countries who are convinced that we are all morons.

I, for one, iz am not am oron.

My newest discovery details those people who perpetuate and even validate the assumption that we all have sex with our cousins (no judgment).

There is a website called J &D's that makes the most inane and irrelevant items taste like bacon. Their slogan? "Everything should taste like bacon."

Not true. I can think of plenty of things that should not even come close to tasting like bacon...like syrup.

Don't get me wrong. Bacon definitely makes the cut in my top 3 favorite animal by-products, preceded only by shoes and purses. However, bacon is to be used in moderation especially by those of us who have seen Charlotte's Web.

Here are a few examples of what this website has to offer, getting progressively more ridiculous as we go along:

Baconnaise

Because mayonnaise isn't awful enough, we decided to add some bacon to it. How obsessed does one have to be with bacon to want to actually ingrain it into mayonnaise? It's like those lazy bastards who put peanut butter and jelly in the same can....and then into a squeezable bottle. Is a BLT really that hard to make? Not to worry, though. There is a "lite" option so that when bacon enthusiasts decide to funnel this through a beer bong and staple-gun the cellulite to their asses, it wont be SO bad.

Mmmvelopes

Tired of the bitter taste that envelope leaves in your mouth? Now that shit can taste like bacon so that when you're sending out thank you letters to your friends and family for coming to your wedding, you wont have to deal with envelope glue. However, if you buy these, I'm sort of wondering how you're finding a husband whose name isn't "Half Ton Teen". Color me bitchy.

Bacon Lip Balm

Because nothing says "Let's play tonsil hockey" quite like pan fried pork.

Bacon Baby

If nothing else, this is just poor advertising. Baby's are gross enough with their slobber and the fact that they suck the fun out of everything (including uteruses). Why make them less appealing by making them lose their only redeeming quality? The smell babies give off is a precious mix between baby powder and Johnson's soap...until you soak them in a vat of grease and sweat known as Bacon Baby. Also, your baby may turn into a little piglet.

Other options include bacon flavored salt, bacon flavored popcorn and bacon ranch, all of which sound similar to the first name of the lead singer of Blues Traveler.

I'm not making fun of any group of people by saying that this may be the most white trash thing I've ever heard of. My entire family is from parts of Kentucky, so you could say they're salt of the earth people. However, I don't know if they're bacon salt of the earth people. Secretly, I hope they qualify.

That's all for today, kids! Thanks for reading!

Obsession of the day: "In the Heights" soundtrack.

Do this, not that.

So you know what I haven't done in forever? Posted on this damn blog, that's what.

Since I'll be home all summer doing a whole lot of nothing, I figure I'll have time to write about all the majesty that is my day-to-day life.

So here goes. Summer 2011: The Sydney Holmes Story.

Since I basically bypassed all kinds of golden nuggets as far as pop culture goes (aka- Friday (hot damn mess to the nth degree), James Franco at the Oscars (hot damn mess part deux....doesn't mean I'd kick him out of bed, though), The Voice (obsessed, even though Xtina Aguilera looks like a trampy myspace hooker), etc...) I'll just go in to my new found passion and we'll go from there. After all the keyboard is mightier than the sword, and Imma bout to slay all you bitchez.....?

There is nothing I love more than watching people in their cars. My roommate said she read somewhere that if you want to find out what someone is really like, pull up next to them at a stoplight. I can't say that a nice first date of coffee or lunch or something wouldn't suffice my need of getting to know someone, but I definitely am not above taking stalking to the next level.

Before society was anally raped by the mass amounts of technology we deal with every day, there weren't many options for the day-to-day car ride. People just sat around, farted, looked at their hands, or sang (something I choose to do pretty much every time I get in the car. Eff the radio). But now, there are so many options.

Exhibit A:

Shaving while driving.

I saw a man shaving his face while I was driving to my job interview (which went swimmingly by the way, thank you for asking) this morning. I'm sorry sir, but if you don't have enough time to shave in your own damn sink, you need to loosen up your schedule somewhere. That's like those sadists who microwave Pop-Tarts instead of toast them.

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, KING OF THE ROAD?

I don't know how electric shavers work. I've never used one on my legs, but I don't imagine if a speed bump came upon this man unsuspectingly that his face would survive. He would probably look a lot like The Joker circa Heath Ledger. Not only is shaving and driving incredibly unsafe, but I feel like there's an uncomfortable amount of itching that goes on. From the stubble of your face falling into your shirt, pantaloons, and other crevices, I can't say I condone something like this.

If this is the future of hair removal, though, I would really like to pioneer a "Brazilian wax while operating heavy machinery" movement.

Exhibit B:

This guy.

You all know exactly who I'm talking about. Some of you might even be this guy. If you are, please exit my blog immediately with your boogery mouse and keyboard.

No, but really. I can understand the occasional nasal scratch, but come on. Your windows are not tinted enough for you to go on a full excavation of your nostrils without being seen and, in turn, embarrassed. Get a fracking tissue.

My new favorite activity is this: If I see someone vigorously picking their nose in their car, I will stare bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at them until they look at me and, blushing, pretend to not have been doing what we both know damn well they were just doing. Go ahead a flick that booger somewhere in your car, Captain. Doesn't mean I didn't see you do it.

Even though those were only two examples, I'm going to stop here. I don't want to overload you all with too much sarcasm in one day. So thanks for reading and I'll post again soon!

Obsession of the day: "It Gets Better" videos.

Wait, what?

I don't know when exactly it was that I became the world's most deadbeat blogger. Perhaps it was in between marathons of "Sister Wives". Or maybe it was when I decided to eat my body weight in Hershey's Almond Kisses one day. Regardless I've been slacking and for that, I'm sorry.

Soooo..

Chappy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy New Year to all.

Here goes. My first blog post of 2011.

I hate flying more than anything. You know the barf bags that are in the pockets of the seat in front of you? I'm originally who those were made for. I get sick and nervous and overwhelmed and all I can think about is my plane blowing up and me dying in a fiery furnace and how I spent my whole life in school. Anyway, that's that. I tell you all this because I had to fly home for the holidays and, of course, hilarity ensued. I met someone who hated flying more than I do.

I have no idea what her name was, but we ended up sitting next to each other. She began going on and on about how sweaty she was (which I could clearly see. Her sweating was like that of Reuben Studdard's during his final American Idol performance. Google it.) and how she'd never flown in her life. Once she finished telling me her life story, she went back to her business twiddling her thumbs or whatever it is people do on planes besides blow chunks. Then, out of nowhere, she starts talking again. At first, I thought she was talking to me and I began to get annoyed. I don't deal well with eye contact, and I especially don't deal well with eye contact in close quarters (aka- 6 inches away from my face). Then I realized she was having a full-blown conversation with her coffee cup. It went something like this:

(As she puts it in the pocket of the seat in front of her)

"Please don't spill.... I'm nervous enough as it is...

"You've been so good all day, so I figure SOMETHING bad is going to happen." (Cue robust laughter)

"I've just never flown before and it would be so embarrassing if you spilled on me!"

No, ma'am. You know what's embarrassing? WHAT YOU'RE DOING RIGHT NOW. Somedays, there are things that just go way over my head. I think this is one of them. Anyway, that's just a fun little tidbit from my life.

Also, I received the movie "Babies" for Christmas from my precious little nugget face of a sister. For those who aren't aware, "Babies" is a documentary by Disney (I think...?) that chronicles the lives of four babies and their different issues they face. The babies come from America, Japan, Mongolia, and Africa. For the most part the film is precious, but if this doesn't make me even more disgusted by breast-feeding, I don't know what will. There were boobs EVERYWHERE. All kinds of boobs. I couldn't even deal with it. At one point, there was a shot of just a boob and a baby's face. The mom then proceeds to SPRAY HER BABY IN THE FACE as a form of teasing. I'm sorry, what?! I wanted to die. Thank God I didn't get it in BluRay.

Enough talk of tits.

This Christmas/New Year was all about conformity and becoming like others. At least it was for me. I finally joined the rest of the world in a lot of ways. I got internet on my phone, I cultivated an ipod touch, but most importantly I made the best investment I've made in quite sometime: jeggings.

Jeggins are literally the smartest invention ever. I've said it once and I'll say it again; The inventor of jeggings deserves the Nobel Peace Prize. If your ass is like mine, you'll understand why they're so incredible. They look just like jeans, minus the muffin top. You could do cartwheels and backflips in them. Granted I can't do a backflip, but if I could, these would be the garment to do them in. I'm contemplating suggesting them to the US Olympic Gymnastics Team. I can't say enough good things about J to the E to the GGINGS.

And really quickly I just want to mention a little golden token in the reality TV world. We all know how much I live for reality TV. I eat that shit up. Doesn't matter what it is, how low and morally ambiguous people have to be to be on the show, or how blatantly and insensitively people's insecurities are targeted...I love them all. But one in particular: Bridalplasty.

At first I thought "This is just too much. You've literally hit rock bottom E! network" but then I watched it. These bitches are SO HILARIOUS. It sort of looks like a scene out of a horror movie. A ton of women with cut up faces and bandages all over their bodies living in the same house and each week someone gets whacked. Not exactly where I'd want to be. Regardless, I love it. If you would like to share in the obsession, it airs Mondays at some prime time. Just watch E! on a commercial break and I'm sure they'll mention it.

My favorite "character" to make fun of is Allison. This woman is like 270 pounds so, of course, she wants a shit ton of lipo as is custom for the fluffy female. But the first thing she got done is her arms...? She now has the torso, hips, thighs, and ass of a large and in charge woman, but has these twiggy arms. She looks ridiculous.

Anyway, that's all I really have for today. I'm so sorry it's been so long! Thanks for reading today!

Sydney

Obsession of the day: My mass media theories professor who looks like John Corbett

Gobble

Ok so with Thanksgiving just around the corner, I figure instead of being ranty and awful and bitter like usual, I'm going to make a list of ten the things I'm thankful for. Of course these aren't the only things I'm thankful for, but if I listed out everything I was thankful for I'd be here for days. If you love my cynicism and want your view of me to remain as one of bitterness and sarcasm, don't read this post.

So, I'm thankful for:

1. Chipotle

One of these recently came to Lubbock and I am SO happy. My best friend and I are obsessed and every time I'm in there, I think of her. And guacamole.

2. People who play air instruments

Air guitar, drums, bass, piano, trumpet... The list goes on forever, but one thing remains the same: it is incredibly entertaining to watch. I would like to get ahold of an air band and maybe see if they'll play my next party.

3. Texts from Last Night

People say that this website is so "out", but I beg to differ. If you're not aware, this website is full of anonymous, hilarious texts sent in by people all around the world. Sometimes they're random, sometimes they're drunk, but they're always pretty funny. If I feel like by day is going crappy, within 4 minutes of being on this site I can find someone whose night was 10 times worse.

4. TLC Reality Shows

Among these are: "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant", "Say Yes to the Dress", "Sarah Palin's Alaska", and my main squeeze "Sister Wives". I know I've mentioned these all before, but they're too good to not mention again. They offend me, make me laugh, make me cry, but most importantly, make me wonder what the eff people in this world are thinking. Like on "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant", for instance. If you are having sex unprotected, get sick in the mornings, gain weight solely around your midsection, and stop getting a visit from the big red monster every month, I don't know how you don't pick up on your pregnancy. Quite mistaking kicks for gas pains, you hillbilly. If any of these shows has a marathon, I have to cancel my plans for the day. It gets bad.

5. Glee

My Tuesdays mean something again.

6. People's Sexiest Man Alive Issue

Not only was this year's Sexiest Man Alive title give to the most deserving of candidates (Ryan Reynolds), but this issue constantly reminds me how ok I would be with being cradle robbed. I have a thing for older guys. Not like Hefner old, but like 40's-50's. Case and point: Richard Gere. I spent about 20 minutes last night telling my boyfriend about the hots I had for this silver-haired fox, Harrison Ford, Dennis Quaid, Robert Downey Jr. and Jon Bon Jovi. I don't know why I'm such a perv.

7. Four Lokos

They're gone now, but were wonderful while they lasted. If you're unaware, Four Lokos are an energy drink and alcohol all rolled in to one heart damaging little bundle. I decided I had to stop drinking them, then the FDA followed. I trend-set. They have been recalled and are not allowed to be sold again due to the fact that they cause heart attacks. RIP Lokos and RIP Loko Thursday.

8. Febreeze

It just smells so effin' good.

9. My Makeup

Without it, I look like a leper and scare children. Trust me, you're thankful for it too.

10. The Obvious

This is the obvious one that everyone says, but it's definitely my most important. My family and friends. I have the most amazing family.

My mother is hands down the most incredible woman I know. She's amazingly loving and just enough of a crazy ass to make things interesting. If I can grow up to be even a single ounce like her, I'll consider myself lucky.

My dad is a total badass and I love him for it. He's a man of few words, but he cracks me up a lot of the time. He's the hardest working man I've ever seen, and I consider myself fortunate to have him around.

My sister is the cutest thing to ever walk this planet. I'm so proud of her and who she is becoming, even though it trips me out that she's going in to middle school. She's my little love button and I miss her so much.

My friends of course. The old ones: Meg, Alex, and Steph. The new ones: Taylor, Leah, and Kalli. And of course, Curtis, the in between. They've helped me through different phases of my life, and regardless of how long we've been friends, they always been supportive of everything I decide to do. That's the most important thing.

Lastly, the family I'm spending my Thanksgiving with. I'm not coming home this year. Instead I'm spending the holiday with my boyfriend and his absolutely amazing family. They have been so welcoming to me and I sincerely couldn't ask for anything more.

Anyway, everyone. Sorry about that cheestastic moment. I hope you all have a great Thanksgiving! Eat plenty of mashed potatoes and get tons of sleep!

Love,

Sydney

Obsession of the Day is going to be my Thanksgiving List's Honorable Mention:

Chelsea Handler's interview special

"He's Just Not That Into You" (book and movie)

My academic advisor

and Lubbock, TX

MAGNUMMMS

Ok errbody. I've been feeling particularly uninspired until about 20 minutes ago when the ridiculousness of our generations pop culture came up and bitch slapped me. Ready? Go.

1. "Firework" by Katy Perry

This song is the tits. It's that inspirational "don't worry about being such a screw up because you can still get a job on a street corner" kind of song. Well, I feel inspired anyway. The music video, however, is neither the tits nor is it inspiring . Go watch it or this part isn't going to make sense. So Katy is just singing her little baby heart out, having a great time on a balcony when all of a sudden....HOLY SHIT SHE'S SHOOTING FIRE OUT OF HER LADY BITS.

At least try not to hit the bystanders...

So don't get me wrong. I love Katy Perry and, if given the opportunity, I'd probably be down for making out with her. That being said, she looks entirely too much like the fembots in Austin Powers.

Don't even try to tell me you don't see a similarity.

Please don't think that the metaphor is lost on me. I get the whole firework=independence/determination/coming to terms with how wonderful you are. But to say that everyone is special and perfect in their own way is sort of the nice way of saying no one is. You were all thinking it, I just said it.

Anyway, so as all these people find their independence and love themselves for who they are and all that stuff they begin to...burst into flame? Also, how much would it suck to be one of the people who didn't actually get to become a firework, but instead just get a bunch of gunpowder all over your clothes? A lot...that's how much.

Then after all these people find their independence is where I get lost, because the camera cuts to a woman giving birth for no apparent reason. So think of the cheesiest birth scene you've ever viewed and then add a Fourth of July fireworks display. Those poor doctors.

That's all I'm going to say about this music video. Too much pregnancy and fire. Bleck.

2. Public Service Announcements

OH MY FRACKING GOD. There is a new PSA out concerning safe sex courtesy of the Candies Foundation. It's called the "Pause Before You Play" campaign and guys, this one is a doozie. The spokespeople? Mike "The Situation" and Bristol Palin. I, for one, am so SICK of seeing Bristol's face around. Her poor child is going to be so aware of how unwanted he or she is by the time it hits puberty that the parent-child strain is going to be out of this world. For a mother who is so in the media, I'm surprised I don't know the sex of Bristol's baby. Coincidence? I think not.

So the PSA goes on and has Palin advocating abstinence while Mike advocates safe sex through condoms. My favorite part of this whole thing is when Palin says something along the lines of "Mike, I just want you to practice safe sex". Then, Situation whips out a pack of Magnums. I don't know what is more offensive: The thought of The Situation have sex with anyone or the idea that a white guy is trying to convince the world that he uses Magnums. You're Italian, Mike. Not black. He's not even that Italian.

3. Sarah Palin's reality show

Is this even necessary? Sarah Palin is a joke, but as much as I want to hate her, I can't. She just so gosh-darn cute and Alaskan when she runs around with bears and shit. I smell an Emmy coming on.

Alright guys thats all I have for today!

Thanks for reading!

Sydney

Obsession of the day: Taylor and Leah