You'll Know Who Killed Me

Forget about me being a serial date killer. I think I'm corresponding with an ACTUAL serial killer.

I signed up for a free dating site (I know, I know. You get what you pay for.)

I was hotlisted by this older gentleman. He began emailing me.

First correspondence, "You are a lovely woman."

Ok, a little retro for me, but complimentary.

Next communication: "Do you like drinking good wine and flirting late into the evening?"

Eye roll. I felt like I was in a commercial for the Poconos or Beautiful Mount Airy Lodge.

Then, "I'd like to pamper you."

I went for the laugh and wrote, "I'm assuming you're not referring to a weird diaper swaddling fetish."

He came back with this: "No, you're right. And I love cooking women."

!!!!!!!??!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, if you don't hear from me, it's because the serial killing date got me. Not because I'm going out with him. But serial killers are crafty and have good investigative reporting skillz. Pray for me.

Temporary Twilight Zone

This freelance gig is truly the weirdest employee experience that I've ever had.

I am filling in for someone on maternity leave. So I'm a short-timer. Whenever I've freelanced, I've been assigned specific projects. In this gig, I'm supervising a team. The challenge is that I don't know the employees, the account, the process of the agency or the client. The team I'm supposed to supervise has been working on this account for anywhere between 1.5-3 years. So, it's like the blind leading the x-ray vision.

The reality is that I sit at my desk and do nothing.

I am excluded from any sensitive or highly strategic meetings since I'm a short-timer. But those are precisely the meetings that I should be going to. I am also shut out of any projects that will continue after my contracted time. Which is almost all of them.

I'm a lame duck, a general without a war, a temporary employee in existence solely for head count. Collecting a paycheck for reading TMZ and Perez Hilton. Providing entertaining commentary for the team which they reeeeeeaaaaaaaallllllllyyyyyyy appreciate. I'm a fun character in a sea of bland robots.

Sounds like a dream, right? Except it's not. I don't do idle well (see Amish Madonna outfit; bizarre workplace photo shoots to be posted eventually). And believe it or not, the Internet does not provide 40 hours of entertainment per week. I can't really work on other projects except for a half an hour here and there (despite my super stealthy skillz).

I know, just shut up and collect the check. It'll be over soon enough. And I should feel lucky to be earning money while doing nothing.

How bizarre, how bizarre.

Dressing without success

Hitting the snooze button 3 times equals 50% less time to get ready. And my outfits show it.

Since I was voted Best Dressed in 8th grade (!) I've always believed in my ability to put together a good outfit. As long as the lights are on.

Like a vampire, I shun light in the early am. One such morning, I threw on a dress, grabbed some tights and my Lanvin flat boots. Didn't have time (or want) to deal with my hair so I threw on a black hat.

In the elevator to the parking garage, I realized that I was wearing lace tights, a patterned dress and an Amishy looking hat. In short, I looked like an Amish Madonna circa Desperately Seeking Susan.

It was too late to do anything about it. So when I got to work, I walked into the conference room and announced "Amish Madonna has arrived." Figured I'd get in front of it. At least I remembered underwear.

Stealth, USB

When I was a little girl, I loved Charlie's Angels and Magnum PI. And that is because the characters got to do sneaky things.

On CA & MPI, they were detectives so they had lock picking kits that they'd sneakily slip out of their pockets before breaking in somewhere...always in the interest of their cases.

So, when I was like 7 years old, I'd lock myself out of my house and would try to break in by using a bobby pin (I could sadly never find a lock picking kit at Child World). I'd tell my mom that if I wasn't inside in 5 minutes, then open the door. She'd always have to let me in.

Well, when it comes to freelancing, I remind myself of the old lock picking days. To work on this blog and other writing initiatives, I've been carefully placing a USB drive into my pocket every am. At the office, I carefully take it out, slide it into the USB slot on my laptop and throw some papers over it so I can get some writing done. Before anyone knows it, I carefully slide the little silver missile back into my pocket.

I entertain myself by feeling a little like Kris Munroe, Kelly Garrett and Thomas Sullivan Magnum every day, hiding my tools of the trade.

unFUNemployment

Well, I'm back in the workforce. I think the transition has been harder than I thought. I'm re-learning how to cram everything that I need and want to do in my off time. I'm back to living for the weekend.

I think the worst part is the commute: 2+ hours per day to only go 15 miles. Gotta love LA.

But I am happy to be making money. I'm stockpiling so that I have it for a rainy day. Since I know that this gig has no hope of going long-term and I'm okay with that.

If nothing else, this freelance dance has shown me that I need to get it together and make decisions about what's next.

I know that I want quality of life. I know that I really love writing. And I know that I love animals.

So I'm going to be a writing dog walker. A dog walking writer. I'll have two jobs. Twice the fun, unlikely twice the money. But twice the satisfaction that I've had in the past!