Errors are all mine!
You ready for some Alice? :)
Chapter 8 – E-mails & Cleaning
Alice Brandon
Mmm! Sweet salvation…
I've thought about writing a letter to the makers of Mountain Dew, or at least a thank you note. They deserve it. I wish I knew who invented this drink, because I would so give them a hug everyday if I knew who they were.
I wonder if I sent them enough letters telling them how much I love their product they'd send me a free lifetime supply of Mountain Dew? That would be the best.
I swallowed down the last little bit of soda out of my bottle and threw it away, then ever so sneakily grabbed another from my secret stash in the middle, left drawer of my desk. I usually do try to limit myself to just one a day, but sometimes its too hard. It's like I crave the caffeine in my bones.
See, beach is to ocean as this carbonated, lemon-lime, sugary goodness is to Alice. They just have to go together. You wouldn't go to a beach that didn't have an ocean to swim in, right? The same goes for me, you wouldn't want to be around me if I had a zero sugar/caffeine intake.
I typed away at my computer, writing up a rough draft for an upcoming project about flattering comfy clothes (aka sweat pants), and downing the rest of my second soda. I took a break to rest my fingers and bopped my head along to the song playing on the radio station I was listening to.
"Welcome back, if you're just tuning in this is your host, Jazz Whitlock on 'All that Jazz' KZIZ 98.9 FM." The DJ's voice announced after the song was over.
I rolled my eyes at him. 'Jazz' was a complete marshmallow if you asked me.
First of all, what kind of a name is Jazz? It's not one. Secondly, who goes on air and completely disses a whole city full of women? Oh right, Jazz does. And third, would it kill the guy to use his brain cells once in a while? Probably.
It's a shame though, because I really did used to like his show. I even helped Jessica win that free meal the other day with my brain bender expertise. Then, he had to go and insult some poor, innocent woman he ran into at the movie rental store and I couldn't just stand by and listen to that.
That's right, I called in.
This is Mary at your service.
Okay, so it might have been just a teeny bit cowardly to use a name I don't go by everyday, but I didn't want people knowing that was actually me, griping at a complete stranger via radio.
But my birth certificate clearly states my first name as Mary, so technically it's not like I lied.
(Long story short, Dad wanted to name me after Great Grandma Mary, Mom didn't want me growing up to be a nun, they compromised. My real name is Mary, but I go by Alice.)
(Thank goodness for Mom.)
Looking back on it now, it does seem like I overreacted a tad, but its something I feel strongly about. Men expect way too much from us and when we're not perfect, bam; you automatically turn into the psycho ex-girlfriend.
Been there, done that, don't wanna go back.
So I was speaking – or yelling – on behalf of all women out there who were labeled insane for no apparent reason.
And the jerk didn't even listen to me!
Typical male.
I feel sorry for the chick that ends up with him…
I told myself I was never going to listen to his morning show ever again. That was, until I couldn't find any other station with good music. So I had to settle for grumbling insults and flipping him off at my radio every now and then when Jazz came on in between songs.
A few of the people that walk passed my cubicle have started giving me funny looks though, so I might have to stop that…
I went back to work and after a paragraph about yoga pants versus jersey knit pants, I had to take another break. There is only so much you can say about clothes you wear when you're feeling lazy.
My favorite DJ was discussing his oh-so-important weekend this fine Tuesday morning, so to keep myself in a decent mood I decided it was best to shut him off. Then I popped open a new window on my computer and logged onto Facespace to do a little stalking and waste some time.
I checked over status updates first, everyone was either cursing Tuesday being just as bad as Monday, wishing for a few more hours of sleep, or working.
Then I headed over to my virtual farm and harvested a few of my crops, after that I made sure to write on the wall of all my friends with birthdays today.
When I clicked back to my homepage, I noticed a highlighted box with '1 new friend request!' in it. I clicked on it and was shown a small thumbnail image of some big guy cheesin' at the camera with one of those tall, white chef hats and a messy apron on.
Emmett McCarty would like to be your friend! Do you know Emmett McCarty?
"No, I do not." I said to myself and pressed the 'reject' button. It was really too bad, Emmett looked like he was cute and I might have said yes if I knew if he wasn't some pervy lurker…
I glanced down to the clock at the bottom of my screen and groaned. It was only nine o' clock. This day was going by terribly slow, not to mention the girls and I had our last night working at the diner and Vicki purposefully scheduled us during the long shift.
Being as distracted as I was, no work would be getting done so I compromised with myself that I would allow a half hour break before diving back into my article. Then hopefully my lunch break would follow soon after.
I was starting to feel the effects of that extra Mountain Dew flowing through my veins and I could no longer sit still. My right leg started bouncing up and down rapidly and without even bothering to try and stop it, I hopped out of my swivel chair and out of my confined work space.
The open hallway was deserted because, I'm sure, most everyone was actually trying to accomplish something productive with his or her day, unlike me. I went over and peeked into Bella's cubicle where I found her absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair in her fingers while she hummed some oldies song. Then she abruptly stopped humming and lightly smacked her forehead a few times mumbling, 'get out of my head' under her breath.
I stifled my giggle, deciding it was probably best not to bother her and went to spy on Rosalie.
Rose wasn't doing work either, which made me feel better about my lack of concentration today. She was on Videotube, watching some clip of a woman almost getting run over by a van. After it was over, Rose shook her head and clicked on another one. Only this time, it was a different lady almost getting run over by a cab. I may need to confront her about why she's so interested in near death experiences later…
With both of my friends preoccupied in their own little worlds, I went back to my computer and figured I'd do a little research of my own on a certain disc jockey. Hopefully, I could scrounge up something good enough to call in and embarrass him over the air with tomorrow morning.
First, I paid a visit to the station's website. What I saw when the homepage opened up made my eyes almost fall right out of the holes in my head.
How was I not aware that my boss' husband owned 98.9 FM?
I knew he was a successful business guy, not to mention a complete babe, but if I had known he was the head honcho over there, I might've thought twice about bashing that Jazz dude.
Oh well, at least I was enough of a wimp to use a 'fake' name.
After that bit of shock wore off, I continued on to the All That Jazz section where I found a description of the show, galleries with pictures of Jazz at various radio events that I had no desire to look at and… bingo, his e-mail address.
I forgot all about my initial intentions to try and humiliate this guy, and chose to continue voicing my opinions to him by sending him a message since he pissed me off too much to let me finish over the phone.
Although, I couldn't use my regular e-mail address so I quickly made a new one so my real identity could still be kept a secret.
…
To: DJjazz(at)kziz. com
From: mary_0793(at)mail. com
Subject: Remember me? :)
Hi. I'm sure you recall last Friday morning when you so rudely offended all of your listeners who are apparently 'crazy'. Well it's me, Mary, the one who called in and called you out on it.
I was not finished speaking with you, but you clearly made me even more mad than I was to begin with that I just hung up. So, since I was not able to voice my whole opinion, I am going to do that now.
You should know that I did not appreciate how you insulted that woman from the video store without even knowing her side of the story. I also did not like how you assumed our whole gender to be that way. Granted she could have been crazy, but that doesn't mean the rest of us are. Just because one woman you met once was acting a little strange doesn't mean we all are! Seriously, how do you expect yourself to find a girlfriend when you immediately think she's crazy because, oh no, you had one single run-in with a complete stranger that turned out weird.
See, that's the problem with your kind. You judge. Men judge. And you are living proof of that. And you know what? When you meet every single female occupant on this Earth, then you can go on your little radio show and tell Seattle whether our gender is crazy or not.
Without Love,
Mary
P.S. I expect a public apology. Soon.
…
…And send.
Okay, that only took up ten minutes of my time. Great.
"Alice, I am completely distrac- hey, what's that?" Bella asked from behind my shoulder.
"Just a letter I'm sending to a guy who deserves to be chewed out." I shrugged.
"Who?"
"Jazz Whitlock." I told her his name like it had cooties or something.
"From Carlisle's radio station?"
"You knew Carlisle was in charge at KZIZ?"
"Well, yeah!" She said like it was the most obvious thing ever.
"Oh, I didn't until… fifteen minutes ago. Don't tell Esme I'm hatin' on his morning show guy."
"Why are you 'hatin'' on him exactly?"
"Because he's a stupid, judgmental guy who thinks we're all crazy." I huffed. I really needed to get over this; I don't know why I'm still so miffed over the whole thing.
"Oh yeah, I heard that. Wasn't that when that angry lady called in and…" she trailed off and looked at me thoughtfully as I'm sure my face gave everything away.
"You! MARY Alice!" She covered her mouth to try and muffle her laughter. "I can't believe that was you! Oh my god!"
…zzZzZZ…
Once I eventually got back to work it wasn't long until my speakers pinged at me, signaling I had just received a new message in my inbox.
It was from Jazz.
…
To: mary_0793(at)mail. com
From: DJjazz(at)kziz. com
Subject: Re: Remember me? :)
Okay, lady, this has to stop. I get that I said some things you didn't like, and I am sorry, but that isn't going to change my opinion on women yet. Especially when you are acting as the female population's representative. I don't know who voted you into this position, but its not boding well for the rest of the group.
-Jazz Whitlock
KZIZ 98.9 FM
P.S. I will not apologize during my morning show. I did in this e-mail (see second sentence). That should be good enough.
…
This guy just knows all the right things to say, doesn't he?
I was too frustrated to even try and write back, and it's not like my incessant bickering would change his mind anyway. I'd just have to continue to hate him from afar.
…zzZzZZ…
"Hi, welcome to Vicki's. My name is Alice and I will be your go-to girl for tonight. Can I start you fellas off with something to drink?" I smiled and laid the charm on thick. This was the last night I'd ever have to act all flirty for a good tip and I wanted to go out with a bang.
Plus, Rose bet me she'd make the most tonight and I didn't like to lose.
I wrote down the customers' orders and gave them a cute little wink before heading back to the kitchen.
Vicki was back behind the counter, trying her best not to look all depressed and gloomy. She was really taking our last day hard.
Every time either of us three tried to go over and talk to her, cheer her up a bit, she'd run away rambling about being so busy tonight.
Which we weren't.
I balanced the round tray of drinks on my right hand and sauntered back over to the table of guys, mentally reminding myself to try and corner Vicki the next time I was free.
"Alright fellas, I've got one hot blonde in the sand," I slid a mug of coffee with cream and sugar over to the boy with light brown-ish hair, "an Atlanta Special," passing a Coke to the blonde guy, "and another Atlanta, painted red." Giving the dark brunette guy his Cherry Coke.
"So, do we know what we want yet?" I asked, all chipper-y and like it was my absolute joy in life to serve them.
"Yeah, you…" The blonde guy mumbled under his breath, probably thinking only his buddies heard him.
What a lame line.
My left hand involuntarily twitched, getting ready to slap him or something, but then I remembered the bet. "Oh, stop! I'm not on the menu, silly." I playfully (okay, maybe a little harder than 'playfully') shoved his shoulder and the guy's face went pink, realizing I had caught the comment.
His two friends were too busy laughing to give me their order, much less breathe, and the blonde was trying to hide his face so I gave a little fake-giggle and walked off, rolling my eyes once I had turned around.
Rose was at the counter when I got back there, counting out the bills she'd collected throughout the night.
"How much you up to?" I asked curiously.
"Twenty-three dollars. You?"
"Twenty, but I'm planning on cashin' in with those meat heads in that booth over there, so watch out." I jutted a thumb over to the table of guys.
"Oh, no, no, missy. I've got a sweet little old woman who just got back from winning big at bingo, you watch out." She snickered and swatted my butt as she left to attend to her customers.
I was just in hearing distance from my table when I decided it was time to check on them again, when the three boys were still recovering from our latest exchange and discussing something that made me stop.
"You better be careful with that mouth of yours, or our waitress might get all crazy on you like that radio chick. Remember that, Ryan?" the dark-haired one said.
"Oh yeah! When the radio guy answered that call and some girl just started wailing in on him about calling women psycho or some shit like that." 'Ryan' replied.
"I didn't call her psycho." The guy they called John snapped back, still embarrassed.
"Yeah, but you did just admitted you wanted her. She could be offended, who knows, she's a woman. They'll find any reason to yell at you." The dark haired guy laughed loudly.
Cashing in may be harder than I thought…
…zzZzZZ…
It wasn't until really late that the girls and I got back to the apartment. The rest of the diner's cooks and waitresses all stopped by once we had closed down for the night and threw us a mini goodbye party.
Then, once the party was over Vicki had some troubles with letting us go. She finally snapped after keeping her emotions in check all night and bawled like a little baby. It made me feel equally touched and frustrated at the same time. On one hand, I was glad she loved Rose, Bella, and me so much that she hated not having us employed at the diner anymore, but on the other, I hated that she assumed we were never going to stop by whenever we had time.
After a lo-ongg long talk about how much we would miss her as well, Vicki eventually let us leave and now it was two in the morning. I had to be up again in four and a half hours.
Awesome.
I collapsed onto my bed, shoes on and everything, and wanted nothing more than to clonk out right then until my alarm went off. But, I knew for a fact that wasn't going to happen. When Vicki let the floodgates open I was already about to burn out, so I slipped into the kitchen and chugged a glass of Mountain Dew… or three.
That put my grand total to about two hundred ounces of soda for the day and sixty of those ounces of the caffeine crack were consumed about an hour ago, max.
So, it was safe to say I wouldn't be catching any shut-eye tonight. I had already accepted the fact that I would have to pull an all-nighter when I poured that second glass, and I didn't really mind then.
Now I had four and a half hours to fill up. For the first thirty minutes I went through my closet and picked out my work clothes for the rest of the week, as well as the outfit I planned on wearing to Santoreggia's grand opening.
Then I got the sudden urge to do some cleaning around the apartment, but was torn on whether or not to risk getting caught by Rosalie or Bella. If or when they found out I had so much soda pop, I'd have to listen to them try to convince me I have a serious problem.
Which is wrong.
My addiction is just a mild case, not terminal.
This left me sitting on my bed, staring at the wall, and free to let thoughts float around in my head. First thing that came to mind was that stupid radio DJ and how much I hated him, second was the fact that it was technically his fault I lost the bet with Rosalie for most tips and then I remembered what that group of boys talked about which led to my loss of the bet.
They were joking around about my phone call to the station and then they started wondering how they would have reacted to me. As a group, they decided they probably wouldn't have been as nice to me as Jazz was.
Basically, they thought I – or Mary – was a bitch.
I didn't want to listen to them hate on me anymore, so I cut off their conversation by taking orders, minus the previous flirty mood which is how I think I lost.
When I came back at the end of their meal to give them the check, they had come back to the phone call and were now discussing how rude I had been to this guy who did nothing to me personally. This was where I started to feel bad.
The three boneheads did make a valid point. I had basically reamed this innocent guy for telling a funny story about a chick at a video store.
Looking back on the things I said, I definitely could see Jazz's argument about me proving his point that women were crazy. I mean the whole part where I complained that girls didn't get to have fun on dates because we were too busy worrying about our appearances and how fast things were moving and when it was appropriate to make a move was basically a lie. I worry about that stuff regardless whether I'm having fun or not. And I'm sure men do too.
Well, great. Now I do feel like a bitch.
I glanced over at the clock and felt a little better when I realized another half hour had gone by, only three and a half more to go. During that time I really did try to stop obsessing over the phone call. My mind just kept reminding me of it though, and then I remembered I had sent that e-mail and… ugh. That was the stupidest decision ever.
I tried comforting myself in the fact that he didn't know who I was, but that didn't make me feel like less of an idiot.
By the time four o'clock rolled around, I had mentally warred with myself over stupid Jazz Whitlock and came to the conclusion that I didn't regret calling him out on insulting women, but I definitely should have approached the subject differently.
I also decided that it didn't make me hate him any less; he was pretty rude to me too.
Once I had made my peace with everything, I felt much lighter and happier. And way less cranky like I have been for the past two or three days. I felt more me.
Alice is generally not a negative person, people.
I just didn't know how to handle myself, which now that I think about it is probably why I increased my number of Mountain Dews per day.
With my renewed optimism, I told myself I didn't care if my friends thought I had a problem, I was going to clean all night if I wanted to. They could hold an interrogation regarding my obsessive caffeine disorder that kept me up the whole night later.
I started in the kitchen and sifted through the mile high pile of dishes in our sink that none of us ever had the time or energy to wash anymore. I wiped down all the counters, reorganized the Tupperware cabinet and mopped the floor because it still smelled like coffee from when Bella spilled hers a week ago.
I tackled the living room next, opting to shake the rug out on the fire escape instead of vacuuming so I didn't wake up my roommates, sorting the mess of papers all over into piles that were mine, Bella's, and Rose's and even went as far as dusting.
Last on my list was the bathroom. Now, I hated cleaning the bathroom for very different reasons than the normal person. I could handle scrubbing the toilet and getting mildew off the shower curtain (it's not like our bathroom was completely gross), but all the products that littered the counter just irritated me.
We didn't have cabinets - except for the one under the sink that held toilet paper and cleaning supplies – so the counter top had all our different hairsprays, foundations, brushes, face wash, and an endless number of lipstick tubes. It just felt like there wasn't room to do anything in there and it has bugged me everyday since I've lived here.
And it's not like it would do any good to organize it all anyway because once we've gone through the morning rituals in about an hour, everything will be unorganized again.
But, I cleaned it up anyway. I put all of Rosalie's crap on the back left corner of the counter, Bella's in the middle, directly behind the faucet, and mine in the back right corner. All products were arranged by size and then alphabetically.
I took a picture of the finished layout just so I could remember how much of an awesome job I did.
It was 5:45 a.m. by the time I finished all the chores, so I hopped in the shower quick so Bella wouldn't have to wait when she woke up. Then, being the nice roommate that I am, I started the coffee pot and set out Rose and Bells' thermoses for them, grabbing a bottle of MD for myself.
After doing a once-over of the entire apartment that I cleaned, I scurried back top my room to hide from the girls because I just knew they were going to get on to me for having caffeine so close to my 'bed time'.
Geez, they might as well be my mother.
I can just hear it now. "Mary Alice Brandon! Do we need to cut you off?"
Okay, so maybe that sounds more like a dealer than a mother.
There was nothing to do while I waited, and it was still ten minutes before anyone woke up, so what did I resort to?
"Goooooood Morning, Seattle! This is Jazz Whitlock coming to you from KZIZ 98.9 FM and you're starting your day off right, here on my morning show, 'All That Jazz'. We've got some great music to listen to and prizes to give away so hop on out of bed and get movin'!"
I flipped my middle finger at radio because, well, I could.
Reviews are better then sending hate mail.
(especially when reviewers get a tease)
My favorite:
Okay, lady, this has to stop. I get that I said some things you didn't like, and I am sorry, but that isn't going to change my opinion on women yet. Especially when you are acting as the female population's representative. I don't know who voted you into this position, but its not boding well for the rest of the group.
*This is the last chapter I have pre-written so I don't know how long it will be until I get the next chapter up... I'm experiencing a teeny bit (okay, a lot) of writer's block. But I WILL be finishing this fic in a timely manner, just so you don't get too worried ;)
Alright, I'm out!
Love,
Emeleigh