Monday, July 31, 2006

Wait ... I'm A What Now?

I was trying to find some online clips through a Google search of my own name, and I came across this flattering bit of information.

So, I guess while I didn't get that internship I'd taken the test for last year, it wasn't because they didn't think highly of me.

Friday, July 28, 2006

Who's Your "Daddy?"

The, ahem, "interviews" Big Daddy Drew has been conducting over at Kissing Suzy Kolber have been second to none. Don't miss this discussion with Damien Woody.

Excerpt:
Drew: Your first name, Damien, is also the name of the kid from "The Omen". Your last name, Woody, is slang for a man's erection. When you're ejaculating on a groupie's chest, do you tell her that you're "exorcising the demons"?

Woody: I'm married.

And it just keeps getting better.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Sunday, July 23, 2006

"And Now, Here's Tom With The Weather ..."

"Well Suzy, it looks like Hell has officially frozen over today."

Weird side note: Nearly half of my first friends are named Tom.

Where I Would Most Certainly Die

Blink And You'll Miss It

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Life During Wartime

Just like any other person who is a recent college graduate and seeking employment, I sought remorse in the disappointment of quitting the first job I was offered—as well as the pancake house I'd called my employer—by doing what any other down-and-out individual would do: Feel sorry for themelf every day, get drunk every other, and fill all available time in between with a fantasy franchise I'd constucted in NBA 2K2 (part of the recently returned Sega Dreamcast package I had loaned to a friend some years back ...).

Tomorrow was to have been my last day being a waffle waiter, but because the chick making the schedule felt like giving me my entire last week off—mostly, I assume, because I had told her I had a new full-time employer—it turned out last Sunday was in fact my last. Unless, I am called in tomorrow—which I am not particularly relying on, nor expecting to honor, seeing as I will sleep through every single phone call that comes in prior to noon, Central Standard Time.

"So today's the last day?" the boss asked last Sunday.

He seemed to be the only one who knew.

And I played it off that way because I had no answer about where I was going, what I'd be doing, or why my cell phone wasn't going to be working should they try calling anytime between that Sunday and tomorrow.

No sadly unemployed and desperately seeking some kind of——any kind of work, I begin looking forward. And while this past weekend was joyous in hanging out with a longtime friend, he also reminded me that, in fact, next weekend I should plan on attending our 10-year reunion.

"They never told me anything about it," I said.

But he claimed he'd told me everything, and it was at some shithole near his house. So, thus, I'm obliged to go. Or, so he thinks.

Because really, what reason do I have to be attending a 10-year reunion. What's my best introduction about what I've been up to (seeing as I never make an actual introduction as it is, mind you)?:

1. "Yeah, I just now graduated college and I'm on the job hunt."
2. "I'm between jobs."
3. "Well, I'm conducting the final years of a test to see if I can drink away most of my 20's."

It should be added that there will be free booze at the reunion, which could only mean likely disaster next weekend considering my current state-of-mind.

And the weekend after that is my grandmother's memorial, which should be some kind of a trip in itself.

And the week after that is a wedding for one of my now-former co-workers—which is to say, a total party (the wedding is at the courthouse, and the party is at one's home).

So I sit in a constant state of self-evaluation, seeking self-improvement, and all the while wondering if the lone attractive idea for future "employment" will be granted the graces of my parents or not.

But I will not wait long. I am growing impatient.

Much like many others, I assume, have grown with me.

Saturday, July 15, 2006

Friday, July 14, 2006

Well, That Didn't Take Long ...

This summer is beginning to parallel last year's more than I'd like to admit.

During the break between semesters about a year ago, I took a summer job "helping the environment." In other words: Door-to-door begging for donations.

The pitch was for bringing more "clean, renewable energy to the state of Illinois." As you could imagine, my dedication to this job lasted exactly three days. In that time, we were required to average at least $100 a day. In three days, I was credited with exactly $299.

"Aw, too bad," I told myself. And so I quit, spending the remainder of my summer turning in application after application at local and Chicago-area restaurants. Then, approximately two or three weeks before school was to resume, I finally found a job at a local restaurant and became a waffle waiter.

Now, I began this summer accepting a job in "marketing." In other words: Door-to-door begging for people to sign up with a major company providing telephone, cable, and internet service.

To this job's credit, the pay would be better, the pitch was shorter, and I was trying to help people save money as opposed to spending more. So it sounded like an improvement, and I put in my two weeks notice at the pancake house.

But being entirely commission-based, the hours were dreadful. I hopped aboard the 8:17 train every morning and usually came home after 10:00 every night. I should add that the company also wanted me to work for four hours on Saturdays.

The first day on my own went rather well, pulling in some $200+ profit. But then there was the matter of putting in around ten or so hours and having around $25 to show for it. I make more—hourly—at the restaurant.

After getting out from the $2.50 an hour performance of Tuesday, I arrived back at Ogilvie just a minute after my train had left. With an hour to kill, I took the puzzles in the Daily Herald to the bar and saw the National League had a 2-1 lead in the All-Star Game. Since the contest was going by rather quickly, I decided to forgo the 9:40 train as well, and I was treated to the disappointment of Trevor Hoffman blowing a two-out save possibility in the ninth as the A.L. came back to win 3-2.

Sitting on the train, I realized that I had effectively made enough money that day to cover the cost of lunch and my bar tab. Wow.

Just to add insult to injury, I fell asleep on the train. A younger girl awoke me, knowing I probably didn't want to end up in Elburn. It was a nice gesture on her part, but a stop too late; I was now in LaFox.

Could've been worse, I suppose; Elburn is either about a three and a half hour walk or a small fortune for a cab. LaFox, by comparison, is a brisk hour and a half on foot. And a cab will run you about twenty to thirty dollars, depending on your generosity for a tip.

But feeling I'd spent enough money for the day, I opted to walk it. Dissatisfaction with current work situation now peaking, I immediately went to the computer to check the job sites once again.

On Wednesday, I once again—like last summer—simply decided I wasn't going anymore. And with my current cellular phone provider deciding to suspend my service, I knew I could not be confronted about my cowardly manner of resigning.

Better jobs have been popping up, but it's back to the interviewing process. Tomorrow I'll go back to being a waffle waiter as I've been doing for basically every weekend since last August. But I'm not sure I'm going to beg to keep my job, either. I may mention I quit the, ahem, "real job" already. And then the restaurant can decide if they want to keep me around for a little while longer.

While I wouldn't entirely complain about still spending the rest of my summer pouring coffee and being (other than the owner) the only dude at my workplace, I'm not falling for any more of these sales gigs. Sure, this last stab at it was better than the previous two attempts I made—the environmental deal and a sad chapter involving selling vacuum cleaners a number of years back. Times were tough. They'll still be tough. But I'll survive.

In order to be successful in sales, you really have to enjoy what you're doing because you are, in essence, selling yourself. But I'm not really capable of doing any door-to-door thing for any amount of time longer than a period of a few days. And so when people seem as though they don't want to hear what I'm selling, I'm not epecially hurt or baffled by it. My demeanor probably makes it apparent that I'm not really all that interested in it either.

"Rapist, Backing Out!"

"The Hoff"

It's a funny little story about the former "Baywatch" star, but alas, it's not true.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Did The Forefathers Have A Sense Of Humor?

Mr. Fish imagines so.

Today's Big News

Everybody is talking about those silly mushrooms.

Now I Know What "WATB" Stands For

Because talking about death threats can always be funny.

Yeah, But You've Got A Birthmark On Your Head, Dude

Mikhail Gorbachev on Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney:
"They are just hawks protecting the interests of the military — shallow people," he said.
Also claims that Americans have a severe disease "worse than AIDS."

One More Person Who Will Hate A.J. Pierzynski

I mean, really ... that's just plain cruel.

That's A Really Good Question

And my answer would be "Abso-fucking-lutely."

That Doesn't Sound Very Good

As though the New York Times hasn't given conservatives enough reasons to loathe them, this particular story from last week certainly won't help any:
Mr. Barfield said Army recruiters struggled last year to meet goals. "They don't want to make a big deal again about neo-Nazis in the military," he said, "because then parents who are already worried about their kids signing up and dying in Iraq are going to be even more reluctant about their kids enlisting if they feel they'll be exposed to gangs and white supremacists."
Goddamn liberal media.

Pile-On

Oh, Ramesh Ponnuru, will you ever learn? Andrew Sullivan has been calling the "Party of Death" author out for more boneheaded G.O.P. fan boy comments.

In case you forgot, you can always watch Ponnuru's deer-in-headlights manner of defense from his appearance on the Daily Show.

Paranoid

I love a good old-fashioned conspiracy theory as much as the next nut on the fringes, but I've always been reluctant to jump on the wagon for the one concerning 9/11. The Chronicle of Higher Education, however, reports that there apparently seems to be more people who don't share that hesitation.

Naturally, faux journalist Michelle Malkin was quick to drop her much beloved "tinfoil" mention.

The Funniest Goddamn Thing You'll Read Today

And Kissing Suzy Kolber is now officially a must-read.

I'm Lovin' It

If nothing else satisfies me as much as Tom Tomorrow's artwork, it's when he writes about getting justifiably angry.

I'm Starting To Like This Guy

"TPM Reader DK" has been popping up more often over at Talking Points Memo. And the point he makes about the supposed shift in Bush's foreign policy is a rather astute one:
"He deserves no more credit for a policy shift than the man serving a life sentence who declares that he will henceforth be law-abiding."

Score One For PETA

Toby has been saved!

Remind me to buy the book.

Early Kathleen Sebelius Fan Club

Count me in. Ferrarro she is not ...

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

France Still Dirty

When all else fails, headbutt an opponent in the chest—and then win MVP for screwing your squad over ....

... And people actually do wonder why "soccer" hasn't caught on in American culture.

Go figure.

Oh No

As though I needed another time-suck.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Smelling "Bullshit"

Before I could elaborate on a sort of "government-conspiracy" rant about friends in high places, I was beaten to the punch ...

... Mad props, fellas.

Good Riddance

If a nationally-syndicated fabricator gets finally her comeuppance, does a rational person shed tears?

I didn't think so, either.

Benny The Brilliant

I wouldn't disagree with a move Mr. John Paxson has made so far in making the Bulls sudden NBA title contenders, but dismissing the duties of our mascot might clear up some salary cap room ...

I'm just sayin' ...

How The Left Just Oficially Became "Right"

The venom spewed toward the New York Times didn't just get worse; unless you're okay with advocating murder of those with opposing views ... Even then, the entire "argument" distracts from the fact that the Times did what we count on it to do:

It's job.

Better yet would be if we could admire Mr. Bush for the same feats, but excessive Congressional spending has yet to be denied because ... (hey!) ... Daddy's footing the bill ... right?

Right???

We'd better hope Pops has some deep pockets ... or sympathy ...

What An Unbelievable Coincidence

"Unbelievable," especially.

In other words: minority of WMD doubters have no valid complaints in the face of aggressive patriotism; and the minority of Global Warming doubters have every complaint validated because the argument from the opposition has been articulated by—of all "villains"—Al Gore.

God—and really, literally—help us.

"Dead," "Alive," ... Ah, Fuck It

Murder millions and, well, get away with it.

Welcome to 21st century America. Open House began September 12, 2001 ... and the "party" can still go strong, apparently.