SIS | Conquering Whitesnake, Grey Goose and The Bull: Scarlette returns

My “Layoff List.” Do any of you remember it? It was a list of things, much like a bucket list, that I wanted to do while laid off. I started it two years ago [SPR 08/13/09] with lofty expectations, completed five out of 10 items, got pregnant and the list went on hold, much like the ability to wear my pants and say no to donuts.

     Any-babies-make-you-fat-and-neurotic-way, I still have five list items to complete and a problem. Boy, oh boy, do I have a problem. January rolled around this year and I realized that I’m broke. Just flat out, plain and simple broke.

     The kind of broke where you only pay your bills when the pink envelope comes and you live in constant fear of the student loan head hunters. Pay your student loan late just once and they will call you every day three times a day until you have to put your phone on vibrate and hide it because the mere sound of an incoming call fills you with so much anxiety and guilt that you sprout three zits and slap your husband simultaneously.

     I am a creature of comfort; I like nice shoes and expensive booze. I enjoy being a photographer; but, unfortunately, being a photographer in Sandpoint, Idaho means that you will have a "slow" period every winter. Couple this with the shitstorm of an economy and our small population and, well, I'm sure you see where this is going.

     I needed to get a job.

     And my job requirements were pretty simple: I would need to become employed somewhere where I didn't have to sit in a cubicle all day and I would never have to utter the words, "Would you like a baked potato, fries or a house salad with that?"

     It seemed as impossible as checking off the last five items on my Layoff List: ride a mechanical bull, be a groupie, get another tattoo, take over a dive bar and participate in open mike night.

     Who the hell wrote that list? I’d like to find her and kick her ass.

     Nonetheless, I started the job hunt and decided to knock something off my list that very week: The Mechanical Bull.

     I've been stalking that albatross in The Dive for months now. My initial plan was that I was going to have a baby, recover for a few months, fit into my normal clothes again and then saunter into The Dive, cue the DJ and ride that bull into the pages of history.

     Three months post-baby and I still couldn't button my pants, but I needed to make a comeback. I can't just stay on the sidelines, depending on my distant memories of past fun to keep me warm.

     Sure I’m a little out of shape and my wardrobe consists of fat pants and "forgiving" sweaters, but I still deserve to have a good time, right? Soon, I would find a job and then my fun times would have to be scheduled.

     Then the perfect opportunity came: I was invited to an ’80s party. There was no way in hell that I was going to dress up – as a general rule I don't dress up when over my ideal weight. Call me vain, call me sane, whatever I have set these boundaries for myself, and in the age of digital media one can never be too careful. My plan was to get drunk at the party then head on over to the bull and meet my destiny.

     Um, yeah.

     Let’s discuss what really happened. I left the kids with my husband then ate a huge guilt sandwich and washed it down with a cup-full of feelings of inadequacy. I met up with my friends and proceeded to wash the pain away with glass after glass of Grey Goose.

     When my speech and judgment showed marked signs of impairment, I attacked the dance floor. My moves were so dangerous that people had to give me a 4-foot radius in order to avoid injury.

     After working up a sweat, cussing out the DJ and doing a couple of chair dances, I became unbearably hot. Apparently I walked over to a table, grabbed someone's full beer and dumped it on my head while dancing to Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again."

     (Fun Fact: That song was not playing. I just wanted to head bang with long, wet, stringy hair, "like Whitesnake.")

     It was at this point that I walked over to my cousin and informed her that it was time for me to go. She agreed. What she didn't know was that I was ready to leave the party but had no intention on going home – or to Betty Ford. I was ready to ride the bull.

     I walked into the beast's lair. There were maybe six people there. Not much of an audience, but I had worked up the nerve and wasn't going to back out now. I pulled off my boots, climbed into the puffy orange ring and patted the big fellow. He reeked of peanuts and broken dreams. I tried to mount the beast but the first few times I just fell off. BEFORE IT EVEN STARTED.

     Luckily, there was no one else in line, so the bull operator allowed me several tries. On about the sixth mount, I rode the bull for about four seconds.

     Oh but it was an exhilarating four seconds. With Def Leppard playing in the background, and in my haze, I realized that I had finally conquered the bull.

     If a pudgy girl in her mid-30s could re-create a Whitesnake video and ride a feral bar beast in one night, there was no limit to her potential.

     I walked into a job interview three days later and walked out with a job.

     Booyah, bitches.

     As for the last four items on my list, don't worry, I’ll get to them. Remember, I'm the married person who writes about being single. I don't give a bull's horn about having a job and completing a layoff list. It's not where you start, right? It's how you finish.

Still finding random peanut shells all over my house,

Scarlette Quille

Single In Sandpoint: Could I be The New Disney Princess?

NUMBER 10 ON THE LAY OFF LIST!!!! SUCK IT.

Single in Sandpoint: Springtime for Scarlette, in Sandpoint

     It felt like a Disney movie when I woke up this morning – the birds were singing, the sun was shining, my animals were helping me get dressed. It’s early March and there isn't a spot of snow in sight… in North Idaho. What's up with that? I keep waiting for the part where the evil villainess (Winteressa, we’ll call her) tears through the city and delays summer for five months with that five or so feet of snow we’ve been missing all winter. 

     Sure there’s been some rain and some cold mornings, but we’ve been blissfully snow-free for months now, and I for one LOVE it. All is right in the world when spring is in the air, “American Idol” is on TV and the cold, cruel hand of Winteressa lays heavily on places in the east. Seriously, whoever is responsible for this, THANK YOU.

     Maybe we deserved a light winter. I mean, I did have to have a TRACTOR dig me out of my snow-buried house a year ago. I also spent some quality time in a snowy ditch with a car full of kids after being cut off on the highway by some idiot hell-bent on being first in line at McDonalds. Oh, and then there was the whole thousands-of-people-getting-laid-off thing.

     Last winter sucked. 

     Which brings me to my point: I've been officially laid off for a year now, and over that time one of my goals has been to find a job that I love. I've struggled with whether or not I’ve successfully completed this task. You see, back before I was a run-of-the-mill corporate whore I graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree, emphasis in Photography. (And no, I did not take underwater basket weaving, and YES it is a REAL DEGREE.) 

     I've successfully worked as a photographer off and on through the years, mostly as a side job. It has taught me that there is a reason for the term "starving artist."  Nonetheless, when I was laid off I decided to seize the once-in-a-lifetime chance to do photography "full time.”

     I have a pretty broad portfolio; in the last few years I've taken pictures of everything from a 300 pound women's "tush" (apparently her husband is a big fan), to a wedding fit for a princess. Taking pictures of the happy parts in people's lives is beyond fun. To call it a “job” is almost insulting. 

     Therein lays the problem: Sometimes I feel like I'm having SO MUCH FUN that it can't really be a job. Other times, mainly in the winter months, I'm slow. Being a corporate cog for so many years has made it virtually impossible to embrace these slow times. Instead of training for a marathon, or perfecting my Bloody Mary recipe, I worry. I go so crazy worrying that I become a psychotic, cursing myself for doing something so stupid as marrying for love and  following my dreams of running a successful photography business.

     I could have been a kept woman, right? I could have met me a sugar daddy, QUIT my job and spent my winters lying on a beach sipping drinks and honing skills that would eventually transform me into a powerful and successful cougar. My only expectations in life would be to look good and spend money doing it. Photography would just be a pastime. 

     But what if I would have done that and found it wasn't that great? That would be worse. Who wants to find out that their fantasy life was a big bowl of suck soup?! 

     What would I fantasize about when I was trying to think of ways to pass the winter months? Without my cougar-in-training fantasy I'd end up bald and working in a call center – my two worst nightmares.

     Worry. You see? It's what I do.

     Here's the catch though: today the birds are singing, the sun is shining, Winteressa is otherwise engaged, I have a really hot husband who loves to cook breakfast and, later on today, I GET TO BE A PHOTOGRAPHER. That life sounds like a fantasy too, only it’s real. It's mine. Go figure. 

     So there you have it folks, I have a job I love and just think – like Dorothy, in “The Wizard of Oz” – it was there all along.

Happy Spring,

Scarlette Quille

Number 3 on the Lay-off List: DONE

OK, so I have finished number 3, on my list. 

I camped. It was fun. I mean I'm not sure if I can count it as "real camping" because we slept in the back of the truck, and I kind of wonder if "real" camping requires a tent.  I'm no expert on that kind of thing so let me know if you have the answers.

I did roast marshmallows, I didn't shower for two days, and I totally braved the elements, soooooo I'm thinking it counted.

My weekend highlights:

1. White Water Rafting the Lochsa, and I didn't die. I highly recommend rafting the Lochsa, if you are an adrenaline junky, and would like to experience the most intense ride of your life.  

2. Flip cup. I am so good at this drinking game, seriously, its like I can't stop. I actually have to fall to the ground and be dragged off into the night before I can stop. Its like I found my calling. In a past life I must have been a frat boy. There was a part when all of the male flip cup participants got naked, and I don't remember any of that...I just remember that I was a champion, and had to sleep for 16 hours straight afterwards.

3. Camping. I am just so happy that its warm enough to sleep outside, I fucking hate winter.

4. Finishing a task on my Lay off List, nothing tastes as sweet as accomplishment!

I wish I had more to say, I rafted, I camped, I drank, I was hung over for two days and I now have dread locks...Whatever number 3 on the lay off list is totally done.

Interestingly enough, I think I figured out a way to  complete task number 6 on the list. SKINNY DIPPING. Apparently I live 2 hours away from a really sweet nudist camp. Kaniksu Ranch is located in Loon Lake Washington, and besides naked camping they have a lot of activities, like the Bare Buns Fun Run, Wii Bowling tournament, and you'll never believe my good fortune: GUINESS WORLD RECORD SKINNY DIP - followed by a jeopardy challenge.

It's like Jesus wants me to be happy.

I do have a prior engagement on the day of the skinny dip, but I might be able to "swing" it. If not, maybe I'll just take a day trip to Loon Lake and take a swim and use their free Wifi. I have never gotten naked for a good wireless connection before, but I am not above it....

The real question is... have you really lived life if you haven't been to a nudist camp? I've asked myself this question and decided, I may not be complete until I experience it....

Enjoy Me Now, I may not make it back...

I'm going to go white water rafting on the Lochsa this weekend. They sent me a check list and it pretty much said write your will, because your going to die.

I was hoping to take care of  some of my Lay Off List  care of specifically #3. Now I'm worried that I won't ever finish my list...

I'm not afraid of water, I can swim like fish. I am a swim teacher for god sakes, but I am scared of head injuries. I have a huge head and it is always the first thing to hit. This explains my varied past full of concussions. 

Any survival suggestions?

GUEST POST: A Man Sends Me His Laid Off List

A reader sends me his lay off list, I laugh and laugh, and then share it with you!!! Hopefully this will inspire more of you to write your own.

Friday I  found myself laid out and have completed my own Laid-off Top Ten (it's still a work in progress.)

1.) Drive to the Pacific Ocean and wash all the corporate slime off! May require stormy seas.

2.) Apply online for jobs in New York City so I can tell all the other unemployed people at my local bar that I'm applying for jobs in New York City. They won't care but it beats telling them the local grocery store won't even take my app!

3.) Become the first guy ever to cut out and use an actual coupon! (Yea, like that's gonna happen)

4.) Drink a gallon of water every day! I see girls do it all the time.

5.) Clean bathroom just in case I ever do drink a gallon of water every day.

6.) Find out why woman only want to have sex when they are wearing colored underwear.

7.) Buy girlfriend more colored underwear.

8.) Now that I've discovered I get about 50 telemarketing calls all day every day, try to stop screaming terrible things at them.

9.) No matter how poor I get, promise to never accept job as telemarketer.

10.) Life was once a choice of right and wrong. Now it's a choice of wrong and fun. Let the fun begin.

Please include more stories about Sandpoint. It is the prettiest, most ass backward place on the planet. I miss it every day.

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