Looking for some summer help

***I wrote this on spring break in 2014.  It was on Craigslist for one hour, and six minutes. I posted it in Charleston, had I posted it in Hilton Head, it would have stayed on longer.

Keep an open mind (Undisclosed)

compensation: CASH!

contract job part-time

There has been an incident and I need help moving something that weighs about 150 pounds. You may need gloves, depending on how squeamish you are.My husband absolutely cannot find out.If you have a car, that is great, the bigger the trunk the better. My car is a lease and I really don’t want fluids in it. I think Volkswagen would be upset and it would hurt my chances of getting another lease.There may be jobs like this in the future, we are working that out now. As for employment going forward, lets make sure you don’t wimp out like a little kid. I would prefer a male, but females are cool too. Please be 18 or older with a high school diploma. This job would be great for a college student who isn’t afraid of getting their hands a little dirty. If you are in school, please no poli sci majors, I just can’t handle the opinions.

Discretion is an absolute must.

Things to bring on your first day:

Duct tape
Blue tarps, old sheets will work too. Plan on not getting these things back.
Clothes you don’t mind burning
Some good old fashioned elbow grease
A good attitude!

I am super fun to work with, we will probably just laugh all day! So, you pumped? How to apply:

Send me an email to the CL email address listed above
List the following: Height, weight, how often you clip your nails, if you lift, your education history, and your immediate family members current employment with phone numbers and addresses (home and work)

I am hoping for a good turn out for this ad. Keeping an open mind is good, also, not a lot of questions.

Once I have hired you, we start immediately. Your hours are not your typical 9-5, it will be more like 12am-2am. It would be great if you knew your way around north of downtown, thats really where we will be at.

I pay in cash and I will reimburse you for gas.

  • Principals only. Recruiters, please don’t contact this job poster.
  • do NOT contact us with unsolicited services or offers


Missed Connection: My Comfort Zone

***I posted this in Charleston on 4/21.  It’s the end of the semester.  That’s all I have to say about that. 
You and I got along great. You understood me, like a well worn hoodie. I hated leaving you, and I thought I wouldn’t have to. Having to give presentations in front of large classrooms is hard, my dear.Do you miss me?You told me that I live on “an island,” and that “nobody could touch me.” I understand, and I thought you understood too. Come back to me, Comfort Zone.

I don’t like trying new things, as you know, but ever since you left me when I went back to school, I have been a neurotic mess. Did you know that I have to take Xanax now? That’s you. That’s you all day long, Comfort Zone.

Remember the good days? Just you and me, hanging out, in our underwear, playing video games at 2:00 during a week day. That’s what I miss.

What really upsets me is that not only did you leave me, you took my Dignity with you. I haven’t matched my clothing since you left. I go to the grocery store in slippers now. And when I am there, the only thing I buy is cereal. I am trying to woo you back.

DO NOT tell me that I need to “broaden my horizons,” my horizons were just fine, thanks.

Come back to me, Comfort Zone. Bring your pal Dignity with you. Also, if you can find Adulthood, that would be great too.

I would like to say that this wasn’t my fault. No, no, it wasn’t yours or Dignity’s fault either. You want to blame my husband? Sure. He’s not here to defend himself. Why not?

  • it’s ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests



That time I went to Arkansas

This time when I was in college, I had actually just left and I was driving from South Dakota to South Carolina and I was “driving by feel,” which is what my dad always called it when we were lost during daylight hours. 

Anyway, I saw a sign that was like “over here is Ohio! and over there is Tennessee! Choose your own adventure, Stephanie!” So, I chose Tennessee, because Ohio sucked then, and it sucks now.  Where was I going with this?  i don’t know.  I ended up in fucking Arkansas. And I got a speeding ticket.  I was going like 75 in a 55.  Have you ever been to Arkansas?  Like through it?  You want to get through it was fast as humanly possible and then take a hot shower.

I end my night in Memphis.  Just me and my cat Big Bird. Who was feral by the way and hated everything about me. In the hotel room that night, I took that ticket and ripped it up and threw it away.  The reason I did this was because this guy I knew (who actually was not smart.  Like at all.  usually when stuff like this comes up its like ‘he was actually brilliant but makes bad choices’.  This guy was a fucking idiot) told me that tickets like that don’t count if you never go back to the state they are issued. So I believed him!

I got up the next morning and hit the road, not thinking twice about that ticket.

About 6 months goes by, and my dad is renewing my car insurance.  He calls me at work “Stephanie. Why don’t you have a drivers license?” I’m all “what?” he’s all “YOU HAVE NO DRIVERS LICENSE.” Like I was deaf or from another country in which he had to raise his voice to speak to me.  My hearing is fine, just so everyone knows.  So I follow his comment with “I have no idea, I have been driving, I haven’t like gotten anything in the mail or anything.” Keep in mind I had no forwarding address and my drivers license was still issued from Minnesota with an address on it for a house that had been sold for months. He then proceeds to tell me that if I get pulled over I was going to jail.  Keep in mind, this was always the threat growing up.  Like “Don’t drink my scotch, you will go to jail,” “Don’t have premarital sex, you will go to jail,” or “Driving any speed that is over 5 below the speed limit will land you in jail, miss.”

So, I get yelled at for awhile. And then he tells me that I can’t drive until I have a drivers license again.  He knew my boss so he called him and aired my dirty laundry and was like “she’s not coming to work until this is done.”

He found out about the ticket and asked where it was.  I told him, room 213 at the Marriott in Memphis. In the garbage can.  But they have probably taken it out by now.

Also, this guy, whose name was Matt Foley (I will tell you more about him in another post.  He liked to wear my clothes sometimes). Also told me that you cannot suspend someones license if it is from another state.  Wrong again, Foley!

I was out of work for 2 days.  I think my dad took those two days off work just so he could sit at home and yell at me. I was like hardcore grounded for two days at the age of 22.

An old trick learning new things

It has become that time during the semester where I reconsider my entire life.  This semester I thought I would just say FUCK school, let’s join the circus.  I had one volunteer to come with me.  I have to engage with a group of my “peers.” I don’t do groups, even group sex is not for me.  GROUPS.

Today in class we had a very lively conversation where I used my outside voice at least once, regarding tech.  Specifically tech in the classroom.  It made me homesick for my old life.  Parts of it. I genuinely liked writing code when I did it every day. I haven’t written a single line of code in…probably 6 months? I don’t even know.  I am ashamed to admit that.

So, whatever.  Anyway. I was all worked up from this conversation about tech, so I was like fuck it, let’s see if I still got it.

My husband, in his many years of wisdom brought by being with me, said “Please work locally. Do not touch the production server.”  I see how it is.

So I am driving home from school all “woe is me, I can’t read another fucking thing today.”  So instead of input, I did output.

Ok, this is what I did.  I did a blog post about a year and a half ago on the MCS site about using LESS to mathematically choose color palettes.  So I was thinking, I bet I could get it to pick contrasting colors.

That’s what I did:

/* Mixin */
@base: #c3d59a;
@complement1: spin(@base, 180);
@complement2: darken(spin(@base, 180), 5%);
@lighten1: lighten(@base, 15%);
@lighten2: lighten(@base, 30%);

/* Implementation */
.una {color: @base; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}
.due {color: @complement1; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}
.tre {color: @complement2; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}
.quatto {color: @lighten1; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}
.cinque {color: @lighten2; height:100px; width:200px; float:left;}

This is what it looks like (compiled CSS):

/* Mixin */
/* Implementation */
.una {
color: #c3d59a;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;
.due {
color: #ac9ad5;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;
.tre {
color: #9d88ce;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;
.quatto {
color: #e3ebd0;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;
.cinque {
color: #ffffff;
height: 100px;
width: 200px;
float: left;

Abra-fucking-cadabra. Maybe I should get a job doing this. Just kidding, I never want to get a job.  I would throw up a copy of the code on the Weenie but I don’t have root access to…anything.  I don’t have root access for anything, even the stuff that has my name on it.


Midterms are upon us.  For those of you who read my blog, these rules apply.

  1. Don’t ask me what’s for dinner, thats why I put the Dominos app on your phone
  2. Don’t ask me about my Lowes Bullshit Warranty and if I renewed it.  The answer is no and if I see you again I will suck the eyeballs out of your skull and spit them back at you
  3. You noticed the house isn’t clean. Clean it.
  4. Don’t ask me if the dogs have been hugged/fed/cleaned/let out.  Assume no, and just do it. Leave me alone.
  5. Do not ask how the “studying is going” because you can assume it is going poorly otherwise I would have told you
  6.  To my neighbors, stay the fuck away from my house, it makes my dogs bark, LIKE YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED
  7. This also goes for postal workers, we don’t need our mail until 3/31, thanks
  8. Don’t email me looking for a job. Just. Don’t.  If we were hiring it would explicitly say so on our website.  Don’t see it?  Probably because it’s not there.
  9. To my immediate neighbor who has never even said hello to us, my dogs tell me that you get your yard landscaped twice a week. I will have you know that last semester during finals, I paid them $50 to GTFO for the rest of the day
  10. I know my office is filthy, I don’t need you to come tell me

So there it is friends, I will be cheerful and back to my old tricks on 3/31.  Until then get away from me.


The time Mimi bought me a bra

I love my grandmother dearly. And every summer we would drive, not fly, drive from Minneapolis to New Jersey to see Mim’s and my aunts. While in New Jersey, we would drive out to Staten Island and get to listen to the time that my dad laid pavers (I have heard this story so much, I feel like I was there) in front of the house he grew up in and we would eat at a diner but we were only allowed to drink water because “its the best water in the country”.  I am assuming because its Staten Island and its been treated so much in order to make it drinkable. We would see the Aunts and Uncle Sal.  The Aunts, all 4 of them, lived in the same house for years, none of them every married and when you’re italian, if you dont get married off, you will live with family for the rest of your life.

From the ages of 6-18, we did this every summer and it always coincided with my birthday.  So nobody sent things in the mail like normal people but each and every one of my family members took me shopping.  Separately. My Mimi is 81 years old, she still thinks it 1984 and that “dungarees” should be pleated.

We never saw eye-to-eye on fashion.  Of course my mother was not invited on these shopping trips because she would be the voice of reason and I am pretty sure Mimi blamed her for me dressing like “a ragamuffin”.

At 14 we’re off to Macy’s.  Me and Mimi. I thought that I could get past this shopping trip this year by telling Mimi all I wanted was a bra for my birthday.  I think the conversation went like this:

Mimi: What do you want to get at the mall this year for your birthday?
Me: You know Mimi, all i really need this year is a bra.  Can we just do that?
Mimi: A BRA?! (pronounced brar)
Me: Yeah, you know, thats it really, I’m set for school clothes this year
Mimi: Well, if thats what you want for your birthday…A BRA…we can get that

My Nana worked in the Foundations Department in Macy’s for most of her adult life, so I figured the Macy’s underwear department in 1998 is a place Mimi would feel comfortable in.

We walk into the department and I quickly pick up the pace spotting my normal brand, grabbing my normal size and then she catches up to me. “Well…this one is very sheer, what about this Bali one over here?”. Let me tell you something about the bra she was proposing.  It made your boobs look like that cone thing Madonna wore years ago.  Torpedos. I would have torpedos under my sweater.

In order to not cause a scene, I agreed to try it on. I grabbed a few more to make it a real shopping experience, not just an errand, and i beelined to the dressing room.

I was closing the door.

and Mimi was behind me.

So now its just me, and my grandmother, in the Macy’s dressing room in the underwear department.

“Well aren’t you going to try them on?”

Look, at 14, I had the bra thing down. I had been wearing them for awhile, I knew what fit, I knew my size, I had a brand.

She starts taking off my shirt.  Oddly, this is also how i lost my virginity. For another time.

There was screeching and shrieking.

She agreed to wait outside while i tried them on and then she would come in and “check the fit”.

She agreed it fit. I quickly put my clothes back on and wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone the rest of the day. I had been violated.  However, before it was all said and done, she said that I couldn’t just get 2 white bras, they needed to be beige. This life event has scared me to the point that I will never buy a beige bra in my adult life.

Now that I’m an adult and she knows that I have the bra thing down, she sends me tablecloths. I have more tablecloths than I know what to do with.

Things I Would Rather Do Than Eat Earth Fare Fresh Mozzarella

  • Have extensive dental work
  • Have any kind of surgery that is not done laparoscopically
  • Receive a subway gift card in any denomination
  • Drive a US made vehicle
  • Get operable cancer
  • Drive a vehicle with cloth interior
  • Take all 3 dogs to the vet at one time
  • Go to karaoke with my husband sober
  • Get my hair cut by the ‘pregnant or fat’ girl
  • Drink unfiltered water
  • Drink Folgers coffee
  • Drink Pepsi for an extended period of time
  • Eat fish
  • Drive a used vehicle
  • Buy produce at WalMart
  • Eat raw fish
  • Get pulled over for not using my blinker
  • Get MRSA
  • Go to the DMV at lunch time
  • Go to the bank on a Friday
  • Go to Target on Black Friday
  • Stay up past 11pm
  • Mow my own lawn
  • Have to pee on an airplane
  • Go Caroling
  • Solicit anything from anyone door to door
  • Stand on the side of the road holding a sign
  • Take an art class
  • Go to therapy
  • Talk about gun control
  • Talk about religion
  • Be encouraged to sing at church
  • Be tickled
  • Listen to children scream
  • Listen to children whine
  • Have children talk to me
  • Have children wave to me
  • Have parents tell me to wave to their children
  • Have parents tell their children to wave to me
  • Be lectured at Earth Fare about how cruel I am for wanting to eat Veal.  Again.
  • Shop at BiLo
  • Buy meat at WalMart

The Weenie’s Views on Government Subsidized Mental Healthcare

There has been a horrible tragedy in our country this week in Connecticut. It has brought the issue of mental healthcare and gun control to the surface.

I didn’t grow up with guns, I’ve never seen a gun, I’ve never held a gun, I’ve never shot a gun. They are not part of my culture or my life and they will continue to be to be on the peripheral edge for the remaining days of my life.

One thing that does impact me is mental health and healthcare pertaining to mental health.  There was a time where I wasn’t stable and I could not afford care so I simply did not have it. I lived in a part of the country where there were no psychiatrists in the area so I relied on a general practitioner to prescribe medications that made my condition worse.

What everyone seems to be calling for is a centralized mental health plan, a way for people, like Adam Lanza, to seek help for whatever condition he or she may have.  I would also like to say, that at the time of this blog post, Lanza has not been ruled as mentally unstable.  I am not saying that I support what he did, or that he was of sound mind, all I am saying is that there is no evidence that he was mentally unstable yet, so before you spam my comments, take a deep breath and think of something intelligent to say because you are not going to like my response.

So what’s the answer?  A mental health rider on all individual healthcare plans?  Wouldn’t that have been nice when I was self employed paying out of pocket for all my meds and doctor visits.  But lets remember this: many mental health physicians and practitioners don’t take insurance. 

What about a government subsidized plan?  Sure, how about that?  So that you have to be…unemployed?  or so you can game the system and get access to benzos and other potentially addictive medications? Or is it like Obamacare and it will take years to be passed?

What about medication? I have a medication that is $630 a month. Every month it is $630. And thats just one. What about another one that is $400 a month.  So that’s $1,030/month. What about the others?  Is there a prescription plan with this government subsidized plan that everyone seems to be so wild about?  Come on Facebook, whats you plan?

How do we make people go to the doctor?  So we have this plan in place, hooray for all of you democrats and making a difference.  Now you can sleep better at night.  You have successfully raised taxes and made yourself feel better about “keeping your kids safer”.  So now what?  Do we just, en masse, scoop people into the back of a van and cart them into the hospital to be interrogated and see if they have any mental instabilities? no.  no you fucking idiots.  they have to go in on their own.  and here’s a fact, most people, who are sick, like sick enough to take out an entire class of kindergartners, aren’t thinking to themselves “geez, i’m a little down today, I sure wish there was an affordable healthcare plan that I could use to go get on some Lexapro so I wouldn’t fantasize about killing kids all day”.

You are all idealists.  People who kill other people cannot be stopped by putting a plan like this in place.  They do not show signs of becoming serial killers because if they did, they would be stopped and evaluated.  So if you see your kid lighting your cat on fire, take him in, he will probably kill you when he’s in his 20’s.

I’m all for progress and if a plan like this helps post-pardum moms get on something so she doesn’t smother her infant, or a college student who is struggling in school get on some anti-depressants, then hoo-fucking-ray, but screaming that a centralized mental healthcare system will stop mass shootings is completely ludicrous.



An open letter to Carly Rae Jepsen

Dear Carly,

Let’s start at the top.  Why are you throwing wishes in wells?  Why aren’t you throwing them into the sky like Disney told you to do? Don’t you know that girls like you often fall down wells and are never heard from again? Stay away from wells Carly. You also sold your soul for a wish? In a well? That didn’t seem to go so well.

You seem to have some confusion, but that’s ok, you’re 15? 16? At least you’re not experimenting with cocaine and the token lesbien at your High School. So he’s in your way, then you ask him where he’s going? Young lady, this is not a way to get a boyfriend.

Oh, so you’re kind of easy.

So you told him to get out of your way, then you chased him, then you gave him your number, then he didn’t call you?  Is that right? And then you wrote a song about it. Do you know Taylor Swift?

Pro Tip: If he doesn’t call right away, he is a) busy b) busy c) busy d) not into you.  You should not a) cut b) cry c) eat pills d) write a song. When he does call, do not tell him you missed him.

So Carly, its clear you need some help but psychologically and musically. I am not here for you.




The Rules of the Imported Cheese Section at Publix

The imported cheese section at Publix is a very small and coveted area of the supermarket that if navigated well can be very fruitful.  However, if uncharted can be very dangerous and frustrating.  So here, a few rules of engagement.

  1. Have a plan. Know what you are getting, if you need bleu cheese, go and get it, do not get distracted, do not get off course.  Stick. To. The. Plan.
  2. Do not browse. Your browsing should be limited to the cheese in which you are intent on purchasing.
  3. Understand the lay of the land. Publix employees do not really understand that sometimes you have to put all the gruyere next to each other, so if there is a specific brand you are looking for, it could be elsewhere in the case.  Be prepared for such catastrophes.
  4. Do not ask the Apron’s team member for assistance. She is useless.
  5. Respect that Publix does not have that great of a selection. And you may have to find another store.
  6. When in doubt, ask a manager. But if you’re at the Main Road location, DO NOT ask the deli manager, he is useless.

I’ll tell you a story.  I was looking for some fresh mozzarella because Earth Fare had failed me miserably, and I went to my Publix location, and I waited a full rotation (rotation: 1 minute at the cheese cooler where someone is browsing and does not vacate so that the next person in line has access to the full cooler) and this woman had not moved, she was looking at bleu cheese.  So I sighed. She left, THEN SHE CAME BACK!

Anyway, It was my turn and it was just like magazine time all over again. It was awful.