Do You Have What It Takes to Be My Kitty's Sitter?

As I wait patiently for the prospective pet sitter to arrive I realize I need to devise a set of questions to flesh out the amateurs. Such as this portly woman depicted below.

Lindy, the name of the prospect, sounded somewhat vacant on the phone yesterday and I feel like she may not be able to handle the kitty that is part raccoon, part dog, and part crazy cat.

Questions for Lindy:

1.) Do you have any chemical drug dependency issues? If no, proceed to question 2.

2.) Have you ever been charged with molesting kitties?

3.) Will you let him eat junk food late at night?

4.) Do you know feline CPR?

5.) Are you fluent in feline-ish?

6.) How do you respond to public cat tantrums?


I spat out these questions to Lindy, she responded correctly (75%) and passed the test.

She gets a Solid C
_________________________________________________________________

Next, it was time for Stretch's questions. I don't know what he asked her as they went into another room. He likes his privacy like that. After they returned from their private interrogation session Stretch gave a overwhelming meow and the deal was made Lindy will be his pet sitter.

That night Stretch scrawled out his own set of rules and I collaborated. They are as follows:

• No cats cuter than Stretch in the house.

• Stretch is allowed to make any night a Blockbuster night.
• You are not to disturb me during my shows; I must be fully alert when the Kardash' Klan decide they need a house cat; Brotha's gotta work.
• Clifford is to be banned from the DVR - I never liked that red freak of nature.

• Catnip is legal in the U.S., use generously.

• Meow Mix is to be given at 4pm exactly for dinner. (Stretch asks for it by name)
• Organic whole milk is to be served at dinner as well; I'm a growing boy.

• For the remainder of the day, I only drink Lauquen Artisan Mineral Water tempered to 34 degrees - anything above or below is unacceptable.

• Lavender scented Plug-in near my litter box is to be replaced every 30 days as instructed by Glade.

• New spools of Vicuna Yarn will be waiting for me after my cat naps.

• No lasers will be pointed in my presence - that's trickery and child's play; I will not have it.
• I require a nightly ear scratching before bed- no questions asked.
• When you call me, don't expect me to come running - I answer to no one.

Leisureville 101

Working at a retirement facility can have its perks. These being hilarious stories to share on your blog.

Leisureville 101 is an educational course on what it's like to grow older and how elderly get away with everything.

The 'elderlies', as the Hispanic restaurant manager calls them, create quite a bit of problems in the restaurant at the facility. When they're not fighting over which woman gets to sit with which man at dinner, men pass away first which means scary women to men ratios, they're falling asleep at the dinner table. Such is the case with 84 year old Harry, who unfortunately is slightly narcoleptic and tends to doze during his meal. Harry falls asleep at dinner, which wouldn't be so disastrous if he didn't slowly slide down in his chair and pull the entire tablecloth with flatware and table settings with him. By the time he hits the floor his dinner is all over him and the plates and glasses are all broken to bits.

As we move on to the nightly movie in the cinema we reach another dangerous situation. It seems there are too few seats available for this movie showing and the group of Jewish women self-titled as 'The Divas' are saving the last seat open for one of their own divas. Mr. Bernstein walks into the cinema unsuspecting and takes a seat in the last chair that unbeknownst to him is being saved. The Divas immediately scream at poor Mr. Bernstein to move, he rightfully declines to leave, this was a grave mistake. The Divas attack, one uses her cane to womp him on the head, the second Diva pulls on his arm to move, and the third Diva unhooks her dog's leash from his neck and begins to use it as a whip to rap him on his head. Mr. Bernstein moves out of The Diva's zone and retreats to a safe area. The Divas win again.

All of these stories come directly from the residents' actual events. You can't possibly make this stuff up. Every day I am amazed at how they can outdo each other with the wackiness that is aging and dementia. For example, it is not uncommon for a resident to call the local police in to take a theft report for a missing blouse and a missing pencil. Go ahead mull that over for a second...I'll wait. A blouse! And a pencil! That's it. May I add that 99% of the time they sent out the missing item of clothing for dry cleaning. So essentially they called the police to report a stolen pencil. The local police are so patient with us. I love them.

I sincerely hope that when I get older and dementia starts to set it. I wake up every day anew and enjoy my crazy wacky time instead of letting it get me down. More nutty stories to follow the blog would be 50 pages long if I documented all of their shenanigans in one posting.

Peace and dementia episodes...

E Bandit

Bandit Beginnings According to E Bandit

For chronological reasons, I had to push this back...but it's a fresh post.
Click the title of this post for more!

Resumes 101

As an H. R. Director I get a lot resumes, scratch that, a ton of resumes. So many resumes I don't have time to read them all. They come from e-mails, faxes, and snail mail. There are some gems in the bunch, some standout more than others for various reasons.

The example below is what was attached to a resume submitted to me for god knows what job opening. The applicant thought it was a good idea to submit an example of her collaging skills. Notice their keen cutting skills as well as attention to the pug's clothing that matches the backgorund. Granted I did get an enormous laugh out of it, however, I will never hire them because they appear emotionally unstable.

Another resume sent via e-mail to me was in essence a long rambling sentence with no punctuation informing me, in ebonics, that the applicant thinks she could help "all those people at the hospital". I'm unsure what hospital she meant. I am not hiring for any sort of hospital.

One cover letter was closed with, "Thank you for yur time, It's Never Too Late To Lose Weight". Which I thought was quite motivational but somewhat absent minded when composing a resume cover letter.

All in all, I recieve many creative resumes, some I want to schedule an interview just to meet these crazy people.

Thank you for your consideration,

Ebandit,

Enclosures

For the Love of Feria

Dear C Bandit,

This is my plea to you to stop your hair dye obsession. Yes, hair dye is cheap, but the reality is you do not need to spend your entire blogging savings on two boxes per month. Your hair and I plead with you to end this masquerade. No amount of boxes and plastic gloves will make your hair what you want it to be, whatever shade of wood that is.

The cheap dyes are the most tempting, you may contemplate how easy it would be to buy two boxes for the price of one higher quality brand. Don't fall victim to this ploy. You will continue to dye your hair every weekend until you use your savings, your hair is weakened, and your towels and pillow cases are all stained mahogany.

I've noticed your vocabulary expanding to include words such as roasted chestnut, toasted sesame, and even burnt teak. This was my first warning sign that the dye games have gone on too long.

The clerks at Rite Aid are worried about your habit ever since you started bringing in wood samples in for color matching. They even gave you false information to you when you coyly asked them, "What shade is your customer service desk called?" They didn't have the heart to tell you it was made out of plastic and no wood grain could be matched to it.

So please C bandit, put down the plastic gloves and tube of color protecting conditioner and take heed to this warning.

Rinse and Repeat,

E Bandit

Let's Make a Deal

"I've got to buy a laptop."

"No really, I've got to buy a laptop...this is becoming ridiculous."

This was actually my conversation that I have been having with myself over the last couple months about my desperate need for a laptop. I have been using my desktop which is slower than a mouse on weed and my Iphone which I'm pretty sure is the crappiest way to view webpages ever. I set off to the stores to compare prices. I saw some that were way too small for what I needed them for. Others were too large, and some were just bulky. I explained to the tech guru who worked at the electronics store that I needed it for a specific reason. I told her I need it to be fast. I need it to store pictures and music and be very reliable. I also mentioned it needed to be somewhat portable and good on battery life. After a few choices were dangled in front of my eyes I decided on one winner.

I did it. I bought it. Behold...the convenience of...a laptop.

C Bandit urged me over the years to join her in the new millenium to which I simply scoffed and saved my pennies and enjoyed the savings accrue in my far away retirement fund. To me it was a frivolous expenditure. If I already had a desktop computer why do I need another one? Recently, however, I came to the conclusion that for one very good reason I do in fact need to buy a laptop. If not for this blog for a very special reason.




My name is Ebandit and I am an online dater.



It's true I need it for a more convenient way to online date. I have been venturing into the online dating galaxy, p.s. don't assume that there's any intelligent life in this galaxy, on and off for a while now. I've had Mr. Pink and Smelly Jersey Pushover boy and now I am looking for my next blog's material. Each dating experience becomes more hilarious and more worthy of blog posting. But to reel in this goldmine of material; in order to write these phenominal, hilarious, brilliant blogs; I must acquire the right equipment. Cue: the new accessory to Ebandit, the new laptop.








So readers...on I go into the dating galaxy in order to rustle up more hilarious stories for your entertainment.








C U L8R...E bAnDiT

Negative People Need Not Apply

Negative people need not apply to enter my life. Positivity has been proven to increase health, happiness, and quality of life. Having read so many articles on the importance of staying positive and keeping your vibrational frequencies high, I have chosen not to surround myself with negative people.

You know those people where nothing in the world can be right or good? Those people can stay on their own side of life and not encroach into mine. I have drawn the imaginary line in the sand and my side is full of peace signs, smiles, and glitter...the other side isn't so pretty.

Having prefaced with the above information, now I begin my tale of Negative Nancy.

Meet Nancy, she is never happy, nothing particularly horrible has ever happened to her, however, she is just all around miserable. Nancy has a good job, a clean and safe home, and a reliable car. Not to mention a family that cares about her. By my standards she is a very blessed woman. In Nancy's mind she is not.

Nancy sleeps in because she is depressed, wakes up late with a frown, and begrudgingly gets ready for work. As she progresses through her day she rarely smiles unless it is at the cost of others, which is her favorite hobby. She teases the unique, she teases the unfortunate, and she teases the blissfully happy because she cannot obtain that level of contentment. She shuffles through the day making her co-workers miserable, by now, most of them simply ignore her and exclude her as she is now called the little black raincloud of the office. At the end of her day she retires to her angry cave and focuses not on how to improve her life, but instead she dwells on her unhappiness. Woe is me is her mantra, and boy is she good at living it down.

My advice for Negative Nancy is to repose in the immediate as if it were infinity. Enjoy every breath, every day, and every person you meet who changes your path in life.

As I close I will leave all you blog followers with a lovely poem/mantra to have...

Now we are ready to look at something pretty special.
It is a duck riding the ocean a hundred feet beyond the surf,
And he cuddles in the swells.
There is a big heaving in the Atlantic.
And he is part of it.
He can rest while the Atlantic heaves, because he rests in the Atlantic.
Probably he doesn’t know how large the ocean is.
And neither do you.
But he realizes it.
And what does he do, I ask you.
He sits down in it.
He reposes in the immediate as if it were infinity – which it is.
That is religion, and the duck has it.
I like the little duck.
He doesn’t know much.
But he has religion.


~Peace and Positivity,~
~E-Bandit~

Amazing Alignments

And then I visited my chiropractor and all was right in the world again.





Two weeks ago I made the mistake of trying a challenging yoga position. I have been doing yoga for years, ever since I was around 15 years old and consider myself knowledgeable in this exercise. Not educated enough it seems, because side plank pose beat my butt, more specifically tore my back muscle surrounding my L1 and L2 disk in the middle of my back and popped a vertebrae out of alignment.

The night of the exercise, please note: My first time doing yoga in about one month, I felt a little out of shape, and stopped the yoga immediately, drank an enormous glass of water, and mentally berated myself for being so out of shape that I couldn't do yoga as normal. I went on with the night as any lazy person would do, movie, cleaning then reading before bed. The next morning, my back hated me, with a deep seeded passion. I could not move, breathe, or even scream in agony because every time I took a deep breath to scream it was debilitating. Behold my first torn muscle. I feel very blessed to have had most of the diseases/injuries that are normally held for the elderly at a very young age. Shingles age 18, bulged disk age 17, torn muscle age 26. I tell ya, I'm on a roll here.

After laying in bed for a half an hour trying to think of
1.) What I did to hurt myself so badly?
2.) How to get out of bed without passing out from pain?
3.) What will I do if I can't get out of bed all day today?

Realizing that I can pull a 'mind over matter' with the physical pain I got up slowly and had zen like concentration, found my phone, called some people for help and I was on my way into the shower to loosen my muscles and make myself ready for the chiropractor. I winced at every step but was a warrior, I admit I was pretty proud of myself. After showering and downing the legal limit of Aleve one could take at once I propped myself up on the couch, wrapped in my fluffy robe with dripping wet hair and evaluated the situation. I realized yoga was to blame and the sight of the Namaste Yoga DVD set laying on my TV set my heart a blaze with anger. I limped over to it and threw it on the ground, (hey I needed some emotional drugs too and this was exactly it).

I carefully dried my hair with a towel and put on the most comfortable pair of jeans and top I could find that would let me go braless, I don't do bras when I have spine pain-it's total BS.

My ride arrived to my place and helped me in the car, we made our way to the chiropractor and I shook my head every so often in disbelief of my new and fabulous injury. The chiropractor welcomed me and informed me I had torn my muscle, and a vertebrae out of place in the same area where I had a chronic injury/weakness from when I was seventeen. Yay for me! He aligned my spine and sent me on my way with Ligaplex glandulars (best invention since Kombucha tea), a cold compress, and a business card with the next week blocked out with appointments with him.

Since then I have been laying low and hoping to heal, lots of movies, lots of lifetime, and tons of grapes to alkalinize my body. Shopping has lost its zeal since I cannot lift anything to purchase. Cooking has become unnecessary and I've grown fond of one skillet meals like Bertoli pasta bags. I have also become the scary no makeup girl that checks her mail and winces with every step. Creepy!

Healing is happening though, thank goodness and it's thanks to my chiropractor. I must say how amazing are spine alignments, huh? My chiropractor saved my back!

Until the next back injury boomerang bandits,

E Bandit

I bet there are many people out there that have benefited from spine alignments that read our blog, feel free to post your fabulous success story on this blog's comment section.

No Bail Policy

One of my pet peeves has to be bailing. Last minute cancelling on plans, especially plans with friends...not cool. This is why I am now implementing a strict no bail policy. My current rantings come from a long bail themed month.

FYI: I will no longer accept rain checks as payment for bailings.

Exhibit A: Just moved to a condo, need help painting and decorating. Who do I call on? Cookie of course, she's great at shopping for home decor and making light of any serious situations such as getting paint on newly purchased furniture. Issue: Cookie can't make it b/c instead she decided to paint some rooms in her house the same exact day/weekend. End Result: So, I say whatev. and am happy that she is making progress in her own place.

Exhibit B: Ex bf/friend we shall call Playboy asks to get together for dinner and to come over to hang out at my new place, mainly to prove we can be just friends and no funny stuff will happen. Issue: Too bad we didn't get to prove ourselves strictly platonic, b/c he cancels a half hour before he is supposed to show because he isn't feeling well (sore throat or something). End Result: I am pissed because it is so last minute and I already showered and did my makeup but say whatever and go shopping for new movies at Blockbuster.

Exhibit C: Cookie was invited a second time to my new place, she has yet to see it. I am stoked that we can have some girl time and I still need decorating advice. Issue: Someone's birthday is happening this weekend and Cookie needs to attend, so this weekend will not work for her.
End Result: I tell her okay and in the future the plan making responsibility is up to her b/c her schedule is not as open as mine.

Exhibit D: Ex bf/friend Playboy rescheduled dinner for a weeknight, offered to pay because he felt bad about bailing last time. Issue: I get a call at my desk from him early afternoon cancelling because, surprise surprise, he doesn't feel well again. P.S. This guy needs some major fruits and veggies because he's a mess. End Result: He aplogizes and swears he will make it up to me. Bullshit, but whatever, I say okay and make a mental note never to accept his loaded dinner invites again.

Exhibit E: Many other weekday invites to friends that are unable to attend only after they accept.

That concludes my ranting.


Thank you but my schedule is booked solid,
E Bandit.

Jersey Love

So...I'm dating a new guy and he's a sweetheart. He seems too good to be true. He's very emotional (I'm a magnet for those guys I swear) he tells me sweet things all the time, granted some of those highly emotional statements scare me a bit but I can deal and see where the relationship goes.

I just had to blog about this one thing that threw me for a loop. He asked me over to his place after a night out on the town with him and I reluctantly agreed--I am not that kind of girl I assure you so I don't need that kind of pressure in the beginning of a relationship. We get in the door and I assume he's just going to pounce on me, when in fact he tells me to close my eyes as he gets the surprise. One part of my brain thinks "Ooh maybe it's jewelry, roses, etc." and the other part says, "You don't know him that well, prepare to be on an episode of Nancy Grace." I clasp my hands nervously in front of me and do as instructed, closing my eyes tightly and praying to whatever god is up there for protection. He tells me to open them and I see a orange football/sports jersey presented in front of my with his name embroidered on the back. I say thank you and do the typical "Awwww" thing we girls do and try to figure out why he would assume I'd be so lonely that I would need a piece of sporting equiptment to keep me company when he is not with me.

After the surprise portion is over on this date, he walks me to my car and says goodnight. As I drive home I realize that the jersey is doused in his cologne. Ewww, I don't do the Pepe Le Peu cologne thing with men, it does not impress me. I manage to throw it in the back seat and kick on the air full blast. The next day it smelled my car up so badly I had to air it out and remove the poisonous sporting good from my car. I let the jersey get soaked in the rain for a while and then placed it on the back porch to air dry in the breeze.

Pepe Le Peu gained one strike against him that day, my car took days plural to recover. I will keep the boomerang followers posted on the next attack from the cologne bandit.

Peace and Fresh Air,
E Bandit

Thanks Tyra, for Scaring Me.

Tyra Banks, not the world's foremost expert on, well...anything, scared me today. Not directly you understand, this is all through my very logical friend. We'll call her Cookie.

Cookie had me convinced after a short conversation that according to Tyra Banks, there are as many hermaphrodites as there are red heads in this world. Which is not such a big deal if she didn't proceed to attempt to convince me that because an ex-boyfriend of mine has a questionable scar on his unmentionables that he too is a hermaphrodite.

She made a compelling case...he was weird, he has a weird scar, and Tyra said so. Cookie then stated, "That's it, well you knew he was a bit weird, he was a hermaphrodite-it explains so much." (Which it doesn't...because he's not.) But that is okay because what Cookie states is fact, everyone who knows Cookie is aware of this.

After a minute of my own googling, I read aloud to her my findings, that the scar is quite normal and is not from surgical removal or addition of any body part. To this Cookie replied "Oh, well he was still weird." (Which is very true.)

Thanks Tyra, for making me worry that I may or may not have dated an altered man.

Peace and chicken grease,
E Bandit

Self Discovery at the Nail Salon

There's something about getting your nails done that gives this extreme sense of confidence. As you stand in front of the acrylic shelf fastened to the wall of the nail salon, your gaze meanders across the endless hues. These hues of nail polish neatly lined up represent more than a fashion statement. They represent a state of mind and for some strange reason you begin to have more confidence in trying weird colors. You think, "Hey, if I'm paying for this I might as well go with an off the wall color".

Sure you start with a pinkish-beige color entitled "Barely Pink", because obviously it won't show when it begins to chip. Then, you get a rush of braveness and put down the dull beige color and pick up a red sparkly color called "Santa's Sleigh"...getting warmer and sexier. You peruse the shelves and pick of an average of fifteen different colors and with each one you analyze it as if it were a greeting card that you are giving to a loved one. You burn through an entire row of red family hues, that turns into burgundies, then to dark purples, and finally you get so gutsy that you end your debate with a black mulberry color that Vogue, Cosmo, and Harper's assured you is all the rage.

As you walk away from the clear shelf of options you feel so confident with your selection. As if you just made a life changing decision. The single color choice has shaped your next week's wardrobe choices and your makeup colors. The harsh truth being that it will begin to chip off in three days...and you will wish you picked "Barely Pink".

(Mental note: Must remember to always pick neutral tones, especially on toes.)

Checking In With Exes and Oh's

Ebandit: Hey, so how's everything? Heard you moved out of state...any reason?

Drummer Man Ex: Yeah, moved down for this girl I was dating, but it didn't work out.

Ebandit: Oh, sorry to hear. How long did you date before you moved?

Drummer: Haha, about a month.

Ebandit: Wow, slow down there. How did you meet her? I hope you didn't go on that website you were on before we met, called Veggie Date.

Drummer: Uhhh, no. Not Veggie Date. It was actually...

Ebandit: Uh oh...let's hear it.

Drummer: Spiritual Singles.com. I didn't learn my lesson I guess.

Ebandit: Amazing.


The Moral of The Story Folks: Breakups happen for a reason...survival of the fittest if you will.

Security Checkpoint Closed, Come Back L8TR

Eye opening facts that I learned from my fall vacation.
1.) Security checkpoints in small-town airports open at 9 a.m., not one minute before. "Checkpoint opens at 9 a.m. - Come Back L8TR"

2.) The airplane seat in front of you can also be used as a napkin. Yes, this was proven to me by the lovely 55 year old woman sitting next to me who used the seatback in front of her as a peanut crumb/salt napkin. She would reach her hand into her ziploc bag of peanuts, throw the fistful of snacks into her mouth then proceed to wipe the palms of her hands and finger tips, from the top down, on the seat in front of her. The very gross part...she kept returning her airplane seat smudged hand back into her bag of peanuts for more salty goodness...and the cycle continued.
3.) Do not take refuge at TGI Fridays in Dallas airport if you want some quiet time to read your new Jen Lancaster book in between flights. The fraternity boys who are on a boys trip to see sporting events (woo hoo, go team!) will definitely interrupt your reading by screaming at one of the nineteen tv's showing sports.
4.) Wealthy WASPS love tall, thin, blondes. And will tell you openly and honestly how nice it is to see a thin person in the sea of obese Americans traveling.
5.) Married couples with children never seem to have the foresight to book two seats TOGETHER on any given flight and will ask you to move from the comfy aisle seat to a cramped window seat. You will feel guilty, and you will give up your coveted seat.

Mr. Pink

Searching for love, true love at least, is difficult, almost impossible some may say. It is essentially what the world is all searching for, someone to share their life with. Throughout my love quest I have found very distinct partners. One a musician, one a military man turn prisoner, there was even a furniture salesman somewhere in the mix, all equally short coming with their relationship abilities. Therefore, turning to another supplier, other than father fate, I subscribed to an internet dating site. I know, very Dateline, however, it actually seemed to be worth the $49.95 per month...at first. In the beginning there were scads of eligible young men, all decent looking and seeming to all be searching for "a nice girl to share their life with". Slowly the supply dwindled however, but not before I was matched with a 32 year old sales manager whom we shall call Mr. Pink. This Mr. Pink swept me off my feet not only to surprise weekend get-a-ways and bed and breakfasts but also to be swiftly introduced to his friends, and even his mommy dearest, whom we will discuss in more detail later on in this tale.

Mr. Pink was a very quirky man, he was an amateur golfer in his free time, a sales account manager during the day, and a rock band manager at night. He always wore pink when he played golf, dubbed his lucky color by himself. Mr. Pink also was an extremely clean person, trimmed his entire body of hair so that it was not unkempt and kept his very bachelore-like condo immaculate. His routine was rarely changed, he even laid out his clothing for the next day the night before. His daily scheduled is as follows: Sports center in the morning, cereal, shower, then off to work, after work came his nightly nap, ramen soup and specialty sandwich for dinner which he concoted all on his own, as well as ironing, laundry, then golf practice, e-mail answering, and finally bed. In order to fall asleep, however, he needed his sleep mask and to be lulled to sleep by stand-up comedy playing through earphones from his Iphone. Yes folks, this was indeed a very scheduled man.

Certainly facts about his life made me uneasy, the four visits to the risque resort Hedonism (all visited as a virgin), the loss of his virginity at a ripe old age of 24, and the fact that he had never made love without the use of a condom. All of these painted a troubled picture of someone who was uncomfortable in their own skin, however, he was very put together and stable in his outward life. A home owner with a steady job, no piercings, tattoos, children, or ex-wives I saw him as the unicorn most women seek to find, granted the unicorn had a birth defect and was limping.

Over the course of four months the relationship fizzled out. Not as romantic as once he was portrayed to be, certainly not as caring as I was once told, Mr. Pink fell in ranks from the perfect boyfriend to a very cold fish in all aspects of the relationship. I eventually saw first-hand the entirely too close for comfort of a relationship he had with his mother. The multiple daily phone calls to his mother was sweet, the constant time they spent together seemed suspect, and finally the pinch on the butt he gave his mother on one of our vacations with her sent my gag reflux into overdrive. Suddenly I understood why this now 33 year old man was still unmarried, never once loved a woman, and never had any serious relationships to speak of.

Perhaps fate cannot be toyed with and in the end love cannot be searched for with an online checklist...sorry dating websites, you lose.

Boomerang Beginnings According to E Bandit

Just as C Bandit has her own version of the boomerang beginnings, I do as well.


C Bandit and I met upon her internship with a company I worked at back in '05. Back before facebook was a household name and before myspace became lame.
Let's flashback to when I was first informed about C Bandit's internship, Nick, who was essentially a glorified development intern, began talking about this new intern that, "He himself recruited, with his own intellect, hand picked, from his alma mater, best in the class, soooo talented, blah blah blah." After hearing his endless speech about her talent I assumed he was (a.) trying to 'date' her or (b.) already 'did'. When I finally met C bandit on her first day it was obvious he did not succeed in his assumed pursuits as intelligent girls do not date Nick, well...known...fact.

Picture It...2005

It was early morning and a young girl is sitting in her Chevy Cobalt outside the normally barren G Development office building. As I moseyed around the office, checking the boss' messages, chatting with gossip girl and the little black raincloud (both will be explained further in later blogs), in walks C Bandit with her binder of paperwork- she looked very organized.


I completed her new hire paperwork and sent her for her drug testing. She didn't say much, perhaps why my boss referred to her as the whispering intern at all future company parties. My first impression of C Bandit was that she was and intelligent, quiet girl, who wore a bit too much eye makeup. So she was sent off to do the drug test, and surprisingly passed...like I said she wore too much eye makeup and those girls are T-R-O-U-B-L-E!

Moving on... C bandit and I quickly bonded as the youngest females employed with G Development. We lived in a po dunk town where the only activities included bongs, for beers and other herbal remedies. I actually felt pretty bad for her coming from a larger more urban area up north to the misery that is the rural south. She was my sanity amongst the somewhat quirky environment that was G Development. We put together plan racks, then raced them down the hallways, and wasted time gossiping . The office was extremely large for such a small staff of five. We were sent on missions to collect competitor information together since both of us had nothing to do and the company loved to shred money, no seriously there was an actual employed guy with the title of money shredder who had his own office, next to the office full of free sodas and snacks, which was across the hall from the office we all spent our two hour paid lunch breaks.

During our days working at G Development we had to keep a watchful eye out for Nick, the glorified intern, who claimed credit for every productive thing C Bandit accomplished as well as preyed on young, attractive girls he thought he had a chance with. C Bandit and I developed a system of tracking this douche of a guy. We emailed each other from our two office locations, if C was at one, I was at the other. Our codes consisted of various phrases to track when he left one community to another such as, "The Quail has left the nest". I know it seems to complicated for untrained code breakers to solve, but you should have realized by now that we are geniuses! We also always ended our emails with a code which was 'boomerang' which mean please reply asap. Like I said code words may be too complicated for y'alls so take it in stride. During the tracking of this jerk, we also started sending joke stories which C Bandit quickly started to cartoonify (she's artsy like that) and we somehow developed the most ridiculous material. Later realizing that we essentially had a blog, or at least enough blog material to post this shiz online C began to cartoon some logos, and I began theorizing scenarios of our past that people may actually enjoy.

This concludes E Bandit's version of Boomerang Beginnings. Thank you and stay tuned for more!