Superstitious

I come from a very superstitious lot. My dad would literally turn the car around if a black cat crossed the street in front of him and he once made me "un-walk" under a ladder that I had crept beneath. My mom would always say that misfortune occurs in threes and to this day finds the time "11:11" on her VCR as a portent of something unnerving that has yet to occur. My sister believes that an itchy palm is a sign of good luck coming and the bizarre pseduo-psychic antics of my older, identical twin brothers speak for themselves. And that's just the immediate family. Some members of my extended family are even worse. Growing up with such things left me with an unusual sensitivity to superstition. Logically, I know that they are not true, but in the back of my mind I have always wondered if it could be legit.

This week two coworkers in my branch have experienced tragedy. The first lost his father after a long illness on Monday. The other took his family's beloved pet cat into the vet Wednesday morning to be declawed and, for some yet unexplained reason, the cat died.

Wednesday night I had a disturbing dream in which bad things happened to a certain LJ-er friend of mine. It unnerved me to the point that I nearly sent him an IM yesterday to make sure he was okay. I wont say who, as I think he already believes me to be strange and I think relaying that I had a bad dream about him definitely would fuel that opinion. Needless to say, since he posted recently, I think he's doing alright.

Am I the only one who feels this way at times, or am I strange indeed?

Friday Five

Five more questions to help move your Friday along:

1. What were you doing the last time you laughed hysterically?
   
2. What cartoon series do you think has pushed the envelope the farthest?
   
3. What is the must-see new series this season on TV and why?
   
4. What your newest fave song on your computer/iPod/mp3 player?
   
5. What would your outrageous or odd drag name be?

( My Answers )

The $#!+ Work :)

As posted by the ever-handsome anziulewicz, here is a brief history of some of my less glamorous work.

Stockboy/Salesperson: My first real job was part-time the summer before my senior year of high school. I worked for the Rose's Department Store chain that was nearly wiped out by Wal-Mart. I started as a lowly stockboy, stocking toilet paper, paper towels, and motor oil regularly and cleaning the bathrooms, including the womens room. The ladies room was the lowest job on the rung, an absolutely filthy job that involved picking up used feminine hygiene products from the floor most evenings. During that year, I eventually moved up to sales floor (electronics) and then counting money in the office. The promotions were nice, not that there was any more money, but there were times I missed the busy work of the stockroom.

Waiter: My freshman job at the Boone Tavern Hotel Dining Room. The hours were not the best, trying to squeeze in three hours here and there when I could around a full class load. While other freshmen were working in the food service cafeteria serving their fellow students, I was serving meals to customers who were paying quite a bit for a good meal. Some times the patrons were easy and some times they were pure hell to wait on. Sore feet were a part of the job. No tips either, the dining room didn't allow it. As a result, I know good service when I get it and I tend to be a better tipper.

The best part of the jobs is that they did make me appreciate going to college.