Archive for December, 2005
So, I know right away that I’m a spy. I have a small gun, great for concealing, and a camera, cause spies are always having to take pictures. Very poor memories, need something tangible ya know.
So I’m at Lindsey’s but we’re not dating, we actually just met. I’m trying to be cool but I’m still a spy and am pretty sure I was just followed to her place and need something but I’m not sure what it is. It’s kinda like I’m just following myself around in the dream, I know what’s happening but Bryce the dreamer doesn’t know.
I am paranoid. I say, “I forgot my camera in my car” I head to the car and turn around because I see Miles, the spy that followed me there and is probably going to get any info out of me that he can before he kills me. I turn right around, grab Linds’ “Canon” camera, wayyy bigger than the one I have, and act all cool saying, “here it is.” She knows shits up know. “Shit is up” is something she might’ve wanted to say but didn’t.
Oh, Miles comes in. I’m upstairs (remind you this house really looks like my grandparents, not Linds’ current or Ortonville house. But it’s like grandma and grandpa’s in an apartment setting, so there house, identical esque houses attached. Weird, just try and follow me Tyler.
I’m upstairs when Miles enters saying he has to ______ (lies, all lies Lindsey!) and I realize I forget my gun in my car. Oh shit oh shit. Miles slowly comes upstairs, I try to hide under a bed, no luck, and just then I can see through the floor heater grate the downstairs apartment, a black guy’s. Two men break into his room and start coming upstairs. They want Miles and I dead. They were going to shoot right through the walls, shoot up the whole damn house!
Oh shit oh shit.
Miles comes upstairs and I let him know right away. I’m actually scared and start thinking, oh shit oh shit, I’m gonna die. Spying is dangerous. Shoulda listened to mom when she said, “You could probably be a spy for a living, but its damn dangerous and you’ll get shot, be an assassin or something.” Then Miles and I run the f—k out of there.
I decide Miles should stop his car and get his camera and I also need my gun. MY GUN, never would I forget that again… then…
Oh shit oh shit, cops. So we run. But we find dad, a non-spy still Representative. This is when thinks get creepy. I have made no secret, tough spy or just regular Bryce, I hate mice and rats. I hate em. Well, wait for this…
Miles and I meet up with our father, who is unaware of us being spies and killers, and we’re investigating a murder. Maybe several murders. We are searching around this old broken down fan in this field area kind of by this empty building kind of like a trailer from a trailer court. I kid you not, it looked like Jane’s trailer from the courts only no other trailers there, just an empty field and the forest and of course the full sized van.
We go there, and the cop is like, I think it’d be around that van. We look, nothing, finally open up the van, I shit you not, 15 rats and mice scurry out of there. These bastards are huge HUGE! Each being a couple pounds at least. Why are they so big? Cause they’ve had a feast, a feast of dead bodies that someone has been storing in the van and the van had a small opening letting in all these critters.
Then I woke up cause I was kind of hungover and my head hurt.
December 15th, 2005
The grand total was $72
That’s with the tip.
Finals week. Ugh. I have decided I’ll have my computer upstairs during break so that way when my computer crashes at least I’m out of the way.
I also may not play basketball. I may try to coach if we can get a 5-5 game going. If the guys will listen I think it’d be interesting to give it a try.
I really need to start lifting. My arms are smaller than Calista Flockhart’s and I haven’t had a chance to lift all semester.
Next semester I’ll be working 20 hrs a week and taking 21 credits along with the Spur.
Ouch.
Going to Linds’ before work
December 13th, 2005
I went to the Landmark Bistro last night with Lindsey. It was our five year anniversary. I stole a fork.
I started by going to work, looking at my stats from the day before, great, 33 pre-orders, OH NOT ranked 33rd!! There’s only around 40 people!!!!
33 pre-orders means I had the 2nd or 3rd more pre-orders but none of them were very big. I was livid, talked to my supervisors even but they shot me down.
“It means your orders are too small.” Dammit.
So that means I’m not pushy enough. So my coach is a super seller named Jason and he can sell like… Miles can bang hot chicks two at a time, I mean, its breathtaking.
He comes to listen to me, states I have to try and “Bleed them dry” and then takes some calls. I take over with his supervision and get a $138 dollar order. Sweet, that outta boost the stats.
So 8pm rolls around, I leave and head for home. Shave. Worst idea of the night. I cut myself. By the end of the night I realize I have blood on my tie and my white shirt under my blue collared shirt. How it skipped the blue I have no idea.
Pick up Linds, head back home to get a coupon, head to the Bistro.
They offer to take our coats, we defer cause that’d be weird and I don’t want to have to calculate that into the tip, and we sit down, they put the napkin on our lap for us, what the hell??
Menus are huge, like 2 ½ feet tall and 6 inches wide, one page, and the wine menu is huge, too. We go thru the wine first; my eyes are drawn to the $20 mark rather than the other end of the rainbow, $130 bottles of wine. We get something that sounds like something bottle of champagne.
We took soooo long looking at all the menus. Learning…figuring out exactly what everything was. Still haven’t much a clue. I look at the dollar amounts and decide a salad is something we can skip. That was my only limitation of the night. The rest was balls to the wall.
We ordered the Mahi Mahi, fish, and the Fettuccini pasta. They poured our champagne for us and refilled our glasses. I was actually thinking a certain degree of age discrimination would occur but nope. Damn.
For dessert we had some custard and cheesecake. Cheesecake must’ve been good cause Linds ate it all but the custard sucked. I ate like 5 bites and the rest went to waste because Linds didn’t like it either.
We finished the bottle of champagne and drover Linds home. The grand total of the meal was…
Guess.
December 9th, 2005
So the reason I feel like Harry Potter isn’t just because I bought a wand with the same feather as him and Volde-locks but the reason is because of last night.
I’ll set it up. Someone in the school hates me, just like Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. They set up a situation for me to be embarrassed in front of a crowd of maybe 500 people, maybe more, I really have no clue, stands were decent but not super good and I think when it’s Hawaiian Night, our biggest crowd of the year, we push like 1500 people.
So we’re at the game, Lindsey and I, and we are members of the “Mustang Maniacs” which is just a way to get more students to the games. And all people that are Mustang Maniacs can put their name in a goblet of fire (Tupperware bowl) and the goblet will choose (some guy will randomly draw) who can play in the tri-wizard tournament (dash for cash, they put slips of paper all over the court and some have $10, $5, or $1 written on them and others are blank).
Lindsey and I submit our names into the goblet that was like overflowing with fire. We sit back down and think not much of it. Then Dumbledore comes onto the microphone and announces the two competitors. Start the dramatic music.
LINDSEY NELSEN. The crowd is stunned, is she even old enough to enter? But has quickly can she dash for cash!? Lindsey shrieks with glee as embarrassment fills me. I have defeated Voldermort in like every movie and now I’m supposed to watch this mudblood rake in the cash?
And BRYCE RAUSCH! THANK GOD, I REALLY WANTED HIM TO BE SELECTED, TOO.
How could this be? We not only were sitting next to each other but we were wearing the exact same color shirts which Nelly had commented on already and we put our names into the goblet at the same time. The probability of that happening is… um… 42. Immediately Ron gets pissy and all the men in the stadium ask Lindsey to the ball. Shit, I go with the “Non-Whites”.
We both go to the floor and wait our turn at halftime of the men’s game. We get to keep any cash we pick up but they humiliate the loser by announcing the winner to everyone using a microphone and speakers.
I choose to go to the far court so Lindsey doesn’t have to, and as I stretch to get ready to begin the competition I hear jeers from the crowd. MY MONEY’S ON THE GIRLFRIEND…YOU WIN YOU’RE ON THE COUCH…YOU’RE A LIL BITCH
I knew something was wrong, crowd’s normally love me and ask to see my appendix scar whenever I’m around and they jeer?
We have 30 seconds, start…NOW. I don’t see Lindsey again for what seemed like an eternity, I literally am diving around after the slips of paper, I grab everything and stuff them into my palms, no consideration for neatness. I get nearly every slip of paper on my side of the court and at half-court with 5 seconds to go I meet up with Lindsey again. I dive for the last dollar and knock it out of her hand. I have two fistfuls of cash while she neatly has hers gathered together. I have way more slips than her and realize I have beaten Volde-locks again (in a way I can’t type to you).
They begin counting, Lindsey opens up to me about her strategy, “I get the one’s that have dollar amounts on them, and I think I got a couple $10’s” it wasn’t till that very moment that I realized there WERE tens and fives. The man counts hers, winks at her, and says “Just as the dark Lord wants, ma’am.” She was $30. The chick counts mine and has to unfold my crushed paper and mockingly says, “oooh you got a five here”. Bitch. My total is $23.
Not only that, Lindsey didn’t even know this but I think one of slips was a port key that pushed my outside and then it flew away into a giant fire outside so I had to run all the way back to the gym.
We sit down, I’m made fun of relentless by the Slytherines and I bury myself in my Pumpkin Juice.
Lindsey beat me. But it’s ok, we decided to spend the money on dinner and entertainment Thursday night, our 5 frickin year anniversary. Holy hell, huh?
December 4th, 2005
I feel like Harry Potter and I’ll tell you why next post.
December 4th, 2005
Day in the life at work with Bryce Rausch
Now many of you have no clue what I really do at work because it isn’t very exciting and really worth talking about. Here it is for you though.
The people I work with: I was put into a cubicle in Jason (my “Motivational coach, one of four)’s area. I sit next people who need the job to make it through life, having never been to college or people who are through college and can’t find a job any better, and college students. In my area I am right next to Scott, who’s pretty cool but a bit wild, Steve, who’s cool and someone I would talk about computer with, Jessica, a single mother who, though nice, defines trailer trash, Matt, who’s 23 and been through college but stayed with Schwan’s because his brother is making shit loads and is still hoping to get hooked up, Lacie, who is fresh out of HS and her top goals include wanting a spider tattoo and getting out of Marshall with no major goal of any higher education. I mostly just talk to Scott, Steve, or Matt and actually I would say I dislike Jessica cause she complains all the time that she wants to leave work and spend time with her 3 year old kid, who I told her I could beat up on Thursday.
I get to work a few minutes early, grab a cup, fill it with ice and pour my can of soda in it. Have to put a spill proof lid on and find my cubicle. Start up my computer, all the applications I’ll need for work, and then at 4pm exactly I punch in. I try and setup my computer ahead of time cause as soon as you log in your time management stats begin and you may sell everything but you can’t get the top most incentives if you’re time management isn’t good.
I then look up the previous days stats, lately I’ve been right at about 10th place, the top 8 make it to the top team and bring in the big checks. So I’m almost there, just have to figure out how to get over that hump.
I get into Not Homes, which is a list, and then my computer/phone calls everyone for me, I hear a beep and all their information pops up, phone number, name, address, product history, when and what time their driver last stopped. I use this info to ask if the driver is stopping at a good time of them, verify their address, ask if we can ship anything to them, make sure it’s at least 30 bucks to ship it, and thank em and hang up.
The things you have to do every call: ask for the order, overcome objections twice, and mention both shrimp and Neapolitan ice cream which are both featured products.
At 7pm I go on break and hang in the break room with Steve, Brice, and Ian. Other people go across the street to the gas station, other smoke, most smoke, and some chill like us. Free ice cream, milk, and water. If I’m hungry enough I’ll have ice cream. But I try and stay away from it, being that it hurts my teefus’.
Back on the phones at 7:15 and stay with Not Homes till 8:45 when we aren’t allowed to call anyone anymore thru not homes. Then I have to get into another list until the shift is over. The lists include
- Reschedules- driver couldn’t come and will it work if he stops another time this week
- Superweek- competition with the drivers to buy the most
- Lifesavers/Winbacks- people cancelled and you try and talk them into coming back, good luck, I’ve never gotten anyone and been yelled at for the fuel surcharge over and over and over.
There ya go, don’t you feel like you were there with me?
December 2nd, 2005