Only 13 hits today. Where my peeps at?

I just don't get the Ashleigh Banfield thing. Can anyone who cliks on my site looking for naked pictures of her let me know why? Anna Kournikovia, I can understand, but not Ashleigh Banfield. Besides, Christine Amnapour kicks her butt. Yeah, Ashleigh's a bit younger and bit hotter, but Ashleigh looks like if she went to some out of the way, hole in the wall bar in, say, Uzbekistan, she'd ask for a Coors Lite, get all huffy when they don't have it, throw a fit and leave. Christine, on the other hand, looks like the type who would walk in, order some shots of vodka, and then drink all the guys in the bar under the table.

And that's way cooler.

Uh-oh, it looks like I'm losing Web privileges at work. The company I work at has so much data that needs to be entered that they had to stick a temp at the one computer that has Web access. That means going the whole day without being able to check e-mail. I am not happy. It's not like I'm looking for a job or anything. Or that today was not only The Water Cooler on ESPN.com or the great and wise Peter King's Monday Morning Quarterback on CNNSI.com.

Even on a normal basis, I got a bad case of obsessive/compulsion towards checking e-mail. Part of me thinks that at any moment, at any time, I'm gonna get an e-mail that will change my life. And no, I'm not talking about penis-enlargement. This, of course, never happens, but I still think it will. A boy can dream, can't he? Actually, considering what's going on in my life right now, I might actually get that e-mail as I'm currently waiting to hear back from two places with which I had really good interviews and that indicated they'd like to hire me, but are in various stages of putzing around (the place where I'd like to work- the high stress, not bad commute place- actually dangled in front of me the possibility of getting a job offer last week. Instead, I got a "you should meet with one more person" thing and haven't heard back much since then. This has every paranoid bone, nerve, and muscle in my body stomping around and yelling "how ya doin'?" at me. Besides the fact it's just dragging things out, nothing good has ever happened to your humble narrator whenever the whole thing gets held up. In fact, bad things have happened, most of which you have read about it, which makes me think the extra time is needed for them to come up with an incredibly devious and nasty way of screwing me. The worst thing is that one of the reasons they want to come in again is because I've only come in when things were relatively quiet and they want me to come in when things are all hectic and crazy. This way I can get me a picture of how hectic and crazy the place is, as if I couldn't figure out it after all the times they've told me. I know the job is stressful. I've got the idea. And you know something, I'm okay with work stress. Really. When you've been unemployed for a year, work stress is no biggie. When you have to pay your rent with a credit card and resort to not paying your bills in order to eat, work stress is a fucking vacation. Trust me on this. Oh wait, where was I?).

Anyways, so now I can't check my e-mail at work and it's driving me crazy. All I want to do is check my e-mail and see if there's anything I need to see. . With my other temp jobs, I was close enough to BART that I could get home in enough time to check my e-mail at lunch and get back to work in plenty of time, but I'm too far away from the station to do that. As a result, I sit there, typing names into the database, and the only think I can think about is all the great and wonderful (not to mention totally important) e-mails that I'm missing because I can't get online. It got so bad today that I resorted to cruising through North Beach to find a cyber-café, finally finding one at a Ben & Jerry's near Union Street. Yep, that's me, checking my e-mail in an ice-cream shop, getting my e-mail fix. Naturally, all I got was tons of spam and endless trash talking in my Fantasy Football League (of which, luckily I was not the subject of which is good considering I lost my first game, my much derided dropping of Bubba Franks is looking like an epic disaster, two of my players are injured, and my number one draft pick, Randy Moss, is a complete mess), but at least, I knew what's up.

And somehow, I see myself there tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.

Oy fucking vay.

So, the big question that needs to be asked is whether Ralphie can whack Janice and get away with it because he's a made man is he not allowed to because she's Tony's sister?

As I'm not quite up on my Mob ethics, I don't know the answer to this one.

Man, I was so hungover this morning I completely missed today's big protest. Couldn't hear nary a drum, a chant nor a cheer. Oh well. Sorry I missed it.

And yes, today was another "National Day of Protest" here in good ole S.F. Whoopee! I'm sure the Bush Administration is extremely worried about protests like these considering they don’t seem to be the slightest bit concerned what the rest of the world thinks. These particular protests are particularly intriguing because they've evolved into different things as time went by. They originally started off as a National Day of Protest to "Free Palestine!" then, with all this Iraq mucky-muck going on and all the anti-war protestors foaming at the mouth to bring their signs out of the closet, it got turned into a double-billing of a protest, Sammy Hagar/David Lee Roth Tour of protests.

First off, again, the whole marketing part needs work- people need one thing to focus on, not two. It's like Coke saying both "have a coke and smile!" and "we'd like to teach the world to sing" at the same time. What is it? Should we drink Coke because it'll make us smile or because it'll make us sing? Somebody needs to work on the Marketing of these things.

Why are there protests today? Because today marks the anniversary of the "Second Infitada" and I guess that deserves some sort of commemoration or show of support even though it's pretty stupid to march in commemoration of something that was just so plain stupid. At the time, Barak had pretty much given the Palestinian's more than they could ever hope for and Arafat just walked away, too chicken to actually make the call. Instead, he encouraged the Infitada. And where has it gotten the Palestinians? Nowhere. Arafat's pretty much holed up in his compound, surrounded by Israeli's can't even take a shit without getting permission from the Israeli's. The rest of the world is pretty much tired of him and I'm sure even the Palestinian's and the European's wouldn't mind if Israel just threw him in a pillow case and dump him in downtown Beirut or someplace far, far away. The Israeli's lost all their patience with the Palestinian's and just want blood and the Palestinian's themselves have not only had thousands killed, but their economy is completely destroyed. Not exactly something that should be celebrated.

Anyways, the really intriguing thing about the protests isn't the protest themselves, but the flyer's that I'm seeing all over town about them. Besides the usual slogans, there's a lovely picture of some 13 year old or so Palestinian kid, psychotic look on his face, aiming a slingshot. This, I guess, is the kind of image that's supposed to rally people. Like people look at it and go, "right on, man, fight the power, little brother" or some such nonsense. Other people, however, like me, can also look at it and say something along the lines of "wow, that's really fucked up." The 13 year old kid, after all, is not doing this because he's a big Little Rascals fan, but using the sling shot against Israeli soldiers- Israeli soldiers with big guns. Yeah, I know, Israeli oppression, despair, blah, blah blah, but, dude, the kids like 13 years old. The kid should be watching Middle East TRL Live! or playing soccer in a field, not flinging rocks at soldiers.

Here's what I'm saying- if you remember, during the summer the Palestinian's (editor's note- I, of course, do not mean every Palestinian or the majority of Palestinians because to do that would be wrong, but I mean those in charge or the extremists. Most Palestinians, like most Israeli's, just want the fucking thing to be over and don't care how. It's just that I don't want to have to qualify things every time I say "Palestinian" because I'm lazy, mmmmkay?) were using teenage kids as suicide bombers to go into Israel to blow people up. Innocent people. That's way fucked up, but there wasn't a huge outcry of protest about how fucked up it was. You didn't hear it from many of the Palestinians and you certainly didn't hear much from all the dreadlocked unwashed protestors here in the States or the "anti-Semitic? Who us?" Europeans. That's one of the big issues about the whole icky mess in the Middle East, that there won't be peace until certain people realize that suicide bombing is only going to make matters much much worse but from a sheer moral standpoint, it's just plain ole fucking wrong.


The image, however, bugs the crap out of me, and not just because I think it's a fucked up image. It's the reason behind the image. Why are the Palestinian's using 13-year-old kids to shoot slingshots at Israeli soldiers? It's not because those are the only people who could do it, or that the Palestinians are just that desperate, but because it makes their plight look that much more sympathetic when the images are broadcast throughout the world. I mean, it is a pretty courageous looking picture in a way, except for the fact that's the point of it all. Just look at all the anti-war protestors who think the pictures are right up there with portraits of Che Guerrera and the collected works of Mumia as stick it to the Man chic.

But it's not just because the image looks so good, it's because deep down, those in charge are actually hoping that the kids get a reaction out of the Israeli soldiers, the one's with the big guns. They want the kids to bug the crap out of the Israeli's. They want the Israeli's to get annoyed with them to the point that they'll whip out those big guns and use them. That's the main reason the kids are out there. Because what's a bunch of maimed and dead children when you get images of maimed and dead children being broadcast all over the world via TV. In other words, those kids are nothing but cannon. And to make sure that they get those images, the Palestinian's would also hide snipers behind kids and take pot shots at the Israeli soldiers. The Israeli soldiers could do nothing do but fire back in self-defense. If a couple of kids got shot, oh well.

I don't want to come off as one of those Jews who thinks Israel can do no wrong because they have and I'm pretty sure that part of the reason why Sharon seems to get along so well with Rummy and Dicky is because he loves to blow things up just as much as they do. Israel has done a lot of nasty, brutal, stupid things and need to stop building settlements. And I certainly don't have much of a problem with Palestinian's protesting because they should (if they did that instead of blowing up Israeli's, they'd probably have their country by now). I saw two Palestinian girls walking around today, wearing their scarves and banners and thought nothing of it (plus, they were both kind of cute), it's all the others that I have a problem with, the great. Because despite all their claims of superior knowledge and intelligence, all their claims to have a deeper understanding of what's going on than your average brainwashed, CNN watching because they read alternative weekly's they really don't know what the fuck they are talking about. They be getting played and they don't even know it.

Just about exactly two years ago, both the Giants and the A's were in the playoffs. On my way to work, I noticed that one of the big office buildings in downtown SF, one off Sansome Street, had suddenly unfurled two huge Giants and A's banners that flew on the roof of the building. As the wind blew down the streets and the flags flapped in the breeze, everyone downtown could, at some point, see them flapping away. As a card-carrying member of the Church of Baseball, there was almost no better place to be on the face of the earth at that time. The two local teams were in, the area was pumped, and my beloved Giants were not only in the playoffs, but had the best record in the National League.

Two years later, it's déjà vu all over again. Go Giants!

PS- I have a feeling Barry's gonna do some major ghostbusting and get rid of demon's past. Of course, he could bat .750 and have a hand in almost every run the Giants score but if the Giants lose, he'll still get the blame. Which, is, I guess how it's gonna be if you're someone like him. Tricky thing about baseball-come playoff time, it's not the big-time non-pitchers who make a difference, it's the 7 & 8 hitters & it's the bench-guys who step up and win it. It's Mark Lemke and Scott Brosius and Craig Counsell and Tony Womack who win the games. If the Giants will, it'll be guys like J.T. and Reggie Sanders and Bell who get them there, not Barry and Jeff Kent. There's just too many other people who a team depends on to win to hang it one or two guys.

And if I get a job this week, I am sooo buying scalper tix and going to the games.

Holy Diver
You've been down too long in the midnight sea
Oh what's becoming of me

Ride the tiger
You can see his stripes but you know he's clean
Oh don't you see what I mean

Gotta get away
Holy Diver

Shiny diamonds
Like the eyes of a cat in the black and blue
Something is coming for you

Race for the morning
You can hide in the sun 'till you see the light
Oh we will pray it's all right

Gotta get away-get away

Between the velvet lies
There's a truth that's hard as steel
The vision never dies
Life's a never ending wheel

Holy Diver
You're the star of the masquerade
No need to look so afraid

Jump on the tiger
You can feel his heart but you know he's mean
Some light can never be seen

I'm beginning to think that the Bush Administration is plainly the most clever and diabolical group of people I've ever seen. This whole Iraq thing, the way they've orchestrated, has been pretty frickin brilliant.

Let's go to the replay-

All summer-long, stories have been leaked about plans being drawn up for an invasion of Iraq. The President, however, doesn't say much other than a brief threat here and there, usually in the middle of a golf game. His cronies- Dickie, Rummyand Condi- are everywhere, talking up the invasion with the same sort of crazed look that Jack Nicholson had in "The Shining." To further get things going, stories are leaked that a lot of Bush's henchmen have been telling Bush that he doesn't need no stinking U.N. nor any stinking congressional approval.

The War Pigs are squeeling, the international community is all afroth, the media is in frenzy mode, and the Democrats actually get their heads out of their asses and speak up. "But wait, chill," everyone says to themselves, "it can't be that bad, can it?" Everyone immediately thinks that it's all nonsense and that it's just the manic frothings of the aides and that the President knows whats up and will take care of it all. Then they all take a lot at the President and everyone has the same reaction- oh shit.

His little (month-long) vacation over, W. makes like he acquiesces and announces that as much as it pains him, he'll go to the U.N. Right before he goes, he nurses himself on the teet of the 9/11 sap-fest and then gives his speech. And you know what? He gave a good speech. Really (I actually watched part of it). He mentioned the League of Nations like he actually knew what it was, talked about all the U.N. Resolutions that have been passed against Iraq and challenged the U.N. to do something (a completely valid thing to do, actually).

Afterwards, the International Community praises the speech to high hell, like a puppy-eyed 16 year old boy with a crush trying to suck up to the object of his affection because she asked him what he thought about something. What they praise isn't necessarily what he said in the speech, but the fact that he actually showed up and made a show of going multinational. It doesn't matter that this should have been a no-brainer or that Bush probably was gonna do it anyways, it's just that there so much mucketymuck out there saying he wasn't going to show up in the first place that his mere presence was enough to bring hosanna's of praise.

And once again, if you read what the International press and Diplomats have been saying, part of the reason why they liked the speech is because he gave a good one. The expectations on the President, especially abroad, are still so low that just the fact that he didn't go up there and shot off six shooters and stamper up and down about hunting varmints is worthy of praise. The fact he even knew what a U.N. Resolution was (and we all know Condi told him what they are) was enough to make everyone give a sigh of relief.

So what happens? The U.S. suddenly gets all this support we didn't think we'd get. The Egyptians and the Saudi's start saying they might let us use their bases, the EU says they might be down with the whole thing, and the Democrats once again stick their heads up their ass.

And all because Smirkboy made one speech.

But that's not the really brilliant part. The really brilliant part is that one of the main reason why everyone's scrambling to get shit done is because the Bush administration still has everyone thinking that they're just crazy enough to do something crazy. They just look at Dicky and Rummy, see the gleam in their eyes when they talk about "regime change," see that W. still has never actually thought about anything other than what the Ranger's did that day, and know that we're quite capable of going Dr. Strangelove on everyone's ass.

See, what I mean? It's fucking brilliant. We, as a country, are now the crazy psycho guy who everyone let's get what they want because everyone's afraid that if they don't, they'll get the shit kicked out of them.

Makes you proud to be an American, doesn't it?

Actually, the correct answer to the philosophical question posed below is C. It's a trick question, actually cause the correct answer is "whomever hires me first." That is, of course, if I'm even hired by any one of them. Sadly, it's looking like I'm headed for one of those Perfect Storm type situations where everything'll come down at once and it's gonna be one big huge, fucking nightmare. Kind of like what happened last June when I somehow blew two jobs at once playing one of the other.

Aye carumba


My nerves are so frazzled at this point that I'm reduced to listening to Sarah Maclachlan CD's and drinking Camomile tea to try and calm them down. At this point, all I need is some incense and a buddha and I will have completely crossed over to the New Age dark side. I'll have to go out and buy some birkies and grow a ponytail when that happens.

(OT- the Sarah Maclachlan CD is also being played because the last song was, of course, played during the epic tear jerker at the end of Becoming II and yes, I am trying to get a Buffyreferences in at least once a day this week cause damnit, it's my site and I can do whatever I want. Plus, the Season Premiere was fucking brilliant. Absoutely fucking brilliant. The last minute or so was somehow creepy as all get out, make you want to cheer fun, and jaw-droppingly what the fuck all at the same time. I mean, what other show or movie can do all that at once. What the hell does it all mean and what does the "First Evil" have to with Spike? Is he hallucinating or is he crazy or are they using him? And just what the hell was that lastlast shot about? I'm still blown away and I've watched it now three times. That was up there with the howling Bob sequence from the Season Premiere of the 2nd Season of Twin Peaks in terms of making something that makes you go"oh my frickin God" when watching a TV show.)

"I walk. I talk. I shop, I sneeze, I'm gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back. There's trees in the desert since you moved out, and I don't sleep on a bed of bones. Now give me back my friends."

Buffy. Was. Awesome.

That is all. Well, that and Go Giants.

Well, well, well, I come home and discover that somebody's been messing with my cable and everything's dawg-gone changed. I have a whole bunch of new channels. It used to be that most of the channels between 2-565 (the highest channel I had before) I couldn't get, but now I can. It's like a dream come true

Here's all the goodies I have now:

I gots me some more of HBO and Cinemax (more porn!), Cartoon Network (PowderPuff Girls), Game Show Channel (Match Game- you know you loved it), all the various MTV's and VH-1's (actual music videos, many of them not involving artists that suck), the E! Channel (just in time for last week's "This is So Wrong" contest on the Howard Stern Show),Fox News (yay?) and most importantly, TechTV (woo-hoo! 24 hours of news about technology! On a side note, my pod-mate at the Web thingy I did works there and is occasionally seen in the background. Somehow, just from appearing on the screen in the background, she's attracted a fan-base and has a couple of sites dedicated to her. And yes, it's all very weird and there are some people who really do need to get a life. I mean, does anyone actually want to watch a whole station about new technology? Way cool girl, though).

The only problem is that they moved all the stations around so I've completely lost track of which channel are where. When the stations change like this, it's like having to learn to read again, it's all brand new. CNN used to be on 50, now it's on 56. ESPN II used to be on 410, but now it's on 39. And now I have all these new stations to memorize. And how am I ever going to learn where all the new stations are? MTV Jams is like in the 300's, but MTV2 is in the 130's. Comedy Central now goes all day but is on channel 63. And I can't even begin to remember where E! is. I feel like I have to spend the next couple of nights studying and boning up on my channels. And I know Turner Classic Movies is a great station, but how the hell am I gonna know when something's good on?

Man, life just keeps on getting more and more complicated by the day.

Philosophical Question of the Week-

In terms of a job, and with pay being about equal, is it better to work at a place that-

Has a completely unexciting product in a completely unexciting environment with completely unexciting people and has a hellacious commute but should be fairly mellow, stress-free and 9-5 ish?

or

Has a totally crazy work environment and totally crazy management with totally crazy hours but has a happening product, happening environment, free cell-phones, not that bad of a commute, and office parties featuring Peter Frampton and Crosby, Stills and Nash?

Kind of an inverse, "tastes great/less filling" zen koan type of thing, ain't it. On the one hand, totally stress-free and blah eight hour day with tons of time for Web surfing yet an ugly commute versus completely stressful and hectic day but no bad commute.

Questions? Comments?

Here's a new one.....

After a two and a half interview, the person who interviewed me gave me a ride to the train station? Is that a good sign? And what's the protocal for something like that? All the interview books and interview seminars I took talk about what to say when an interview is over and you say goodbye to them as you leave the office, not when you're leaving their Jaguar. And is the ride home part of the interview or is the interview officially over? Can I drop my guard or do I have to still perform? It shouldn't, should it? Especially since it's going on hour three and I'm tired. And I'm exhausted. And I'm way passed bored now. And I'm missing Buffy (which luckily I did tape but the sound got all messed up so I have to avoid all the reviews until I can bring my headphones in from work). And do I really want to work for a place in which the CEO of the company addresses himself using his nickname, even using it as his e-mail address and everyone works 60 hours a week and all everyone tells me is how hectic it is and I'm really tired and I'm really hungry and all I want to do is go home, eat some pizza, watch the Giants game and then catch the threesome ho'down on the Real World?

Three interviews down, one to go.....

I've talked about the whole powerlessness of unemployment, of how you're at the beckon call of the potential job to be. That if they want you to stand up on a desk and do a chicken dance in the middle of the interview, you have to. You have no hand. You are their bitch. So I have to bail on my Temp job? Or bail on my softball game? Or take an hour and a half-long train ride only be dicked around for a fifteen minute interview. There is no part of your life that can't be affected by the looking for work.

But tomorrow, tomorrow, it's serious. The place that I was supposed to meet with over the weekend is treading on sacred ground, making me consider sacrifice something I'd never ever think about sacrificing.

Tomorrow, my interview is set for late in the day, 6 o'clock in Brisbane, which is a half-an-hour to an hour commute. The interview could last for an hour or more and if I don't hit the bus right, it could take me another hour just to get home. Which means that yes, there is a chance I'll have to miss the season premiere of Buffy.

I better get this fucking job.

Oh yeah, it gets even better- drug test, baby! Which is ironical for so many reasons. Like how it's for a company that makes stereo components. Or like how they have special rooms set up where people can listen to music and check out how the stereo's sound. Or like how they have posters from the old Fillmore up everywhere. Or like how the employers that I have seen running around all look like they've done some time at Burning Man. I mean, drug testing people in the Bay Area is a joke to begin with because the amount of people who don't occasionally do some kind of drugs is up there with the same amount of people who are actually Republican (and even most of them smoke too).

And of course there's my predicament. Let's just say that if I had to take the test tomorrow, I'd probably come close to failing. The irony there is that I'm kind of on the wagon right now. And plain old ironic because there's the whole proportion thing, that while today I might have small traces of certain green, leafy things in my system, if they would have tested like ten years ago or so, my piss would be pretty much bongwater.

I wonder, could I use that as an argument? Like, "well, you could like at it like I proved positive for marijuana use, or you could look at it like it shows I don't do Wake & Bakes anymore."

We here at Hooray For Anything would like to give a laurel and hearty handshake to the German's for collectively thumbing their nose at the good ole USA and sticking it ole George "Don't Call me Caesar Because I Don't Know Who He is Other than They Named Some Casinos After Him" W.

Beyutiful.

I wonder if anyone in the Bush Administration is gonna look at what happened and go "hmmmmm."

No, probably not.

You know, it's kind of funny but I was listening to all the speeches on NPR today and German is such an ugly language and it's associated with so many bad things that Schroeder could have been saying something like "I'm for Peace, Love and Understanding and taking lots of E and having lots of group sex" but because since it's in German, it still sounds like "First, we will march into Poland, and then we will march into Czechoslovakia and then we will march in France and then we will round up the Jews."

So somebody at a party I was at was telling me that they saw a car with the license plate I (sign for Heart which I can't find on the computer)DLRD", which is obviously "I Heart the Lord."

I was wondering, though, wouldn't it be ironic if you saw a car with that license plate involved in some huge, major head-on collission on the freeway?

Is the NFL purposely airing crappy games to force us- the red-meat eating, beer-drinking, football fan- to buy their "Direct Ticket" cable package? I turn on the games this morning and instead of getting Jets/Dolphins or Bears/Saints, we here in SF get Pats/Chiefs (yawn) and Eagles/Cowboys (yeee-awn). The Cowboys fucking suck and the Chiefs are mediocre at best. Meanwhile, we're missing a battle between rivals and the only meeting between two undefeated teams.

Bastards. I love football but hate the NFL.

And yes, I had too much coffee this morning.

Went to one of those DJ/Art Installation parties full of Burning Man types last night. Ahhh, SF boho's, God love ya. The space was pretty nice and had all of these "art installations" all over. Art installations, of course meaning, art that's not really art but more like things thrown together and called art. There was some paintings and some other things that I could only describe as cracker jacks spilled on a platform and glued together and painted various colors. At the start of the artwork, there was, of course, the big huge Artistic Vision essay. Gotta love reading them. Turns out this artist was big into Autism and everything they had done was somehow related to Autism. Fine, whatever.

Now, I'm not an expert in art. I was an English Major and know my literary theory, but don't know my art theory. I do know, however, that if you have to have a placard explaining what exactly the point of the art is, there might be a problem. Is it art if you have to explain why it's art? Shouldn't art be self-evident?

I missed the "Mona Lisa" when I was in Europe, but I'm pretty sure there wasn't a statement attached to it explaining that Da Vinci painted it as a protest of the role of women in Renaissance Italy. I have, however, seen, Michelangelo 's "David." When I saw it, it was just there, sitting out in a big room. Once again, no big statement of artistic vision, no claim of trying to make a statement about society's views on male body image. There was also no big "Statement of Purpose" or placard explaining the meaning behind the Sistene Chapel, Botticelli's "Birth of Venus," Michelangelo 's "Pieta," or Picasso's "Guernica."

I once had this long discussion with a Graphic Designer I worked with. She was big into Modern Art and Modern Art Theory. Her favorite artist apparently had, as her artwork, handcuffed herself to her boyfriend and spent two days walking around in handcuffs. This, of course, represented the state of modern relationships or some such nonsense. She loved it. I yawned. I tried to explain to her why I thought it was nothing but a wank-off. See, I told her, I know a lot of Film Majors, or people who make film, and they all sit around praising Godard and all the French New Wave directors, as well as all those experimental film-makers nobody knows or cares about their movies are boring as hell. To me, that's all fine and dandy, but when it comes down to it, the greatest movie ever made was Casablanca. And it's not even debatable. Because it doesn't take much to see that representing man's alienation from himself in the midst of modern technological society don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.

In other words, if it ain't got that swing, it ain't got that thing.

So my fellow droogies, what are you doing on this fine, beautiful Saturday afternoon?

I am, of course, inside my apartment- the Fortress of Solitude- writing today's Blog entry. This, however, wasn't exactly the plan for the day. I was actually supposed to be playing softball all day, but wound up having to bail because I had something bigger and more important to do. I had a job interview. Yes, a job interview on a Saturday.

But guess what? The job interview, of course, was cancelled. And that's why I'm sitting here in my apartment, this beautiful Saturday afternoon, listening to Ratt's "Lay It Down" and reading the fine story on Buffy's major domo, Joss Whedon, in the New York Times (this next week, is of course, All About Buffy as it's not only the season premiere, but on Monday, F/X is airing my favorite episode, the brilliant, Lynchian masterpiece of a TV show- "Restless.")

The fun just doesn't stop.

Now, you might be wondering why is it I'm having an interview on a Saturday. Saturday is not a day for a job interview. Saturday is the weekend, a day of rest, the Lord's Sabbath. That is a long story.

See, it's all about the craziness that happened with last Thursday's interview. To make a long story short, I had a late interview Thursday afternoon and showed up only to discover that one of the people I was supposed to meet had already left and the other one was in a meeting with the Big Boss. Turns out they had tried to cancel the meeting on me, but since I had already left when they called to cancel I missed it (believe it or not, I actually don't have a cell phone). It's all a huge, big miscommunication and just one of those things (whatareyougonnadoaboutit?), but still kind of a pisser. There is nothing, though, that sucks-ass quite like walking in to a place for an interview only to find out everyone was gone. Did I screw up? Did they screw up? And most importantly, could more shit happen to me? As I sat in the lobby and watched the sun go down, all I could do was sit there and try and keep my shit together. No matter what, I had to be as calm and positive as possible, fighting off all urge to either destroy the lobby piece by piece or break down into a huge, sobbing mess.

In an odd sort of way, though, it all worked out. I wound up meeting not with the two people I was supposed to meet with, but with the person who I was supposed to meet with if I got past the other two people. So I kind of skipped to the head of the line, got passed the gate-keepers, in a way. And not only that, I maintained. I got my groove on and gave one of my best performances. So much so, he loved me and told the person whom I was supposed to meet with that he gave me the thumbs up.

The other thing that worked out for me is that they actually felt bad for me and wanted to make it up to me. Or so they acted that way and I'll pretend to believe it because I like living in that world. Ever since, they have been totally nice to me and went out of their way to arrange for an interview with me on a Saturday afternoon.

I was actually okay with an interview today. I was looking forward to it. First of all, I got to choose where and when and got to pick a coffee shop in my neck of the woods. I was gonna take the power back. More importantly, it would meanty that all of this stuff would be taken care of quicker and the quicker this whole saga is over with, the better. This is especially true now because I'm facing two deadlines- probably getting the job in Sunnyvale that I don't really want but probably have to take and also knowing that if I don't get that I have to leave my beloved City by the Bay for home.

But it didn't happen.

She couldn't make it. Too busy. Got the "really sorry and I hope it doesn't inconvenience you too much." No, I just went to bed really early, bailed on a softball game and spent all morning all stressed out, but other than that it's no big deal. Now the interview is gonna be rescheduled for either late next Tuesday or early Wednesday.

All of which means more of everything that's been going on. More insomina, more stress, more not being able to go out because I'm broke, more fighting off my parents to come home, and more of all this fucking crap that is the fucking crap of unemployment. And all I want to happen is for it to end. Is that too much to ask out of life?

Oh, there was another thing about my almost interview today. When I went over to the place on Thursday, I got that definite "we're not just a company, we're a cult" kind of vibe from them. Everyone had company provided cell-phones with which they used like walkie talkies and were constantly walkie talkie-ing with each other. Then there's the the fact that the boss's office overlooked the entire office where he could watch everything through a huge fish tank (shades of the Real World). Mainly, it was because of how the guy I interviewed with kept on referring to the head of the company with cute nicknames. He'd also talk about how the Big Boss man likes to run things and used phrases along the lines of "Fearless Leader doesn't like to take no for an answer" or "Fearless Leader likes to set goals and have everyone meet them." The fact that somebody was willing to drive all the way into my hood to have an interview with me on a Saturday further gave me that cult vibe. I mean, I'm sure she'd rather do other stuff than drive all they cross SF to meet me in a Starbucks, but she gladly said she'd be up for it.

See what I mean?

It's been quite a few months in the music world. First we get actual new Springsteen (not bad), new Chilli Peppers (so far so good), new U2 (alright), new Stones (ickity ick) and I even heard new Pearl Jam (what the fuck happened to them?). And somewhere along the way, in a month or so, we'll here the infamous never-been-released Nirvana song that caused all that ruckus. But none of that- none of that- compares to what I heard a couple of days ago. This is even bigger than Springsteen, bigger than U2, even bigger than the Nirvana tunes- new Boston.

Yep, the Bone is playing the new Boston tune.

And I'm sure you're all wondering the same two things- are they still around and why?

Anyways, I hate to admit, but I love that Sheryl Crow song, "Steve McQueen." How could you not love a song that not only name checks Steve McQueen but has a "woo-hoo" in the chorus? I know I'm not supposed to like the song 'cause it is Sheryl Crow and, well, does anyone like her? And does anyone know anyone who likes her? I mean really, really likes her? She's one of those artists whose just there, just existing. In a lot of ways, her career should have been way over after that God awful "All I Want to Do" song, but somehow it's not. Her songs are still getting played. Yet if she disappeared from the music scene, I don't think anybody would notice (and yeah, I actually like a couple of her other songs too, like that "Everyday is a Winding Road" song or "My Favorite Mistake."

And yes, I really dig "Steve McQueen." The problem with the song though is that it makes the same mistake a lot of songs these days have. With electronica the big hip thing and hip-hop still reigning supreme, a lot of artists who have no business doing so have to add some sort of electronic blip and bleep just to seem au courant. "Steve McQueen" has way too many blips and bleeps and it kind of takes the fun out of the song. It's just a plain old, simple, rock n' roll tune that needs to be done as such. It needs to be taken out for a drive in a muscle car by some kicking rock band. Instead, it kind of lurches and sputters and hiccups with all sorts of trendy sounds. If it weren't for the catnip chorus, the song would be kind of eh, but the chorus is so good that you forgive the fact that the rockin' lick is totally mangled by a computer.

But why, oh why, is Sheryl doing this? And not just her, there's plenty of other bands/artists that are doing it now too, although I can't think of any off the top of my head. Most of them too are artists who could never seem hip to save their life, but still feel like they have to do something to seem hip. Like Sheryl Crow. She couldn't get played on MTV even if she went on TRL Live and blew Carson Daly. Yet they're all doing it, all adding those samples and drum machines and little DJ sounds and just stop it.

I'm tired and completely frazzled after yet another debacle of a job interview, this time involving a missed phone call, nobody around to interview, another long-ass commute and two Israeli women just off the plane from Tel Aviv. In other words, I'm too tired to really post anything, especially about today's misadventures.

So, I'll just post this...

Bonehead me lost my phone book so it's almost impossible to call anyone right now. The only people I can call are people who I've either memorized their phone number or who are listed on information. I've looked all over for it, but haven't found it. I've even tried the "not looking for it but really looking for it" trick and still nothing.

The silly part about it is that I lost it somewhere in my apartment and I live in a tiny studio. There's not a whole hell of a lot of places the phone book can be because there's no place it could be. The other silly thing about it is that I naturally lost it when I decided to clean up my apartment.

Damnit. I knew I shouldn't have cleaned up my apartment. I always lose something when I do a massive cleaning.

So, I think I've mentioned how the place where I'm temping has one computer with which all the Temps can share and go online to check their e-mail. Which is a really cool of them to do and one of the reasons why I like it here (as much as you can like a dreary, boring data entry temp job).

One of the new temps, however, is driving me crazy. Every hour or so, she goes to the computer and spends like half an hour online surfing the Web. What she's reading or doing, God only knows, but she's on there forever but it can't be too terribly important.

It drives me crazy, of course, because I need to get online and she's constantly hogging the computer. I have stuff to do, very important stuff. Like checking my e-mail. Or checking the job boards and doing research on places I have interviews at. And if she's on all the time, how am I gonna be able to read the NY Times, the Washington Post, ESPN.com and CNNSI.com? And more importantly, how am I supposed to keep up on the abuse being heaped upon the new cast of the RW:Las Vegas on the boards?

Dang nabbit.

Yes, I watched the first episode of the Real World Las Vegas. Where the hell do they get these people? In the immortal words of Bart Simpson "We need another Vietnam to thin out their ranks a little."

Anyways, since Blogger is all wonky, here's a couple of funny columns I recommend. I can't post anything big because, well, it's not like anyone can get onto the site right now.

Jon Carroll of the Chron, who I like despite the fact it's totally unhip to like, has a really brilliant piece on the social construct of the men's room. As all us men know, the men's room has many ancient traditions that somehow silently gets passed from generation to generation.

An odd occurrence at the porcelain palace


Here's a great piece in the SF Weekly that makes fun of your average free alternative weekly (which it is, but nevermind, like my favorite rag, the Bay Guardian. Basically, any column that somehow manages to make nasty comments about Mumia, Burning Man and DJ's all at the same time gets a big thumbs up from me.

Project Censored
Lefty weeklies are always bitching about the mainstream press. Here're some rotten chestnuts we wish the alternative press would quit serving up.

Oh my God, somebody's pitching to Bonds. Wait, it's a strike out. I think Barry's so juiced whenever somebody pitches to him that he's getting a little too eager. Like a guy who hasn't gotten any in a long, long time thinking he's finally about to score.

Ladies and Gentleman, the President of the United States-

"There's an old saying in Tennessee—I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee—that says, fool me once, shame on—shame on you. Fool me—you can't get fooled again."—Nashville, Tenn., Sept. 17, 2002

So yeah, I didn't get the ad agency job. Now, of course, comes the always fun post-job rejection analysis. It's like a football post-game that goes on in your head afterwards: "and, BOOM, here's where he should have said this instead of that. And look at that shirt, BOOM, that cost him. Let's go to the replay, Bob."

Of course, I could ask the woman why I didn't get the job. That's all part of the job looking course. I'm not, however, a big fan of doing that. First of all, I doubt the woman wants to deal with it. Second of all, I've already been rejected, and don't feel like being kicked around some more. And finally, I just don't like to.

Basically, you get the same sort of response that you get if someone rejects you. There's a whole bunch of reasons, some of them real some of them complete bollocks, and most of them are stuff you don't want to know.

Usually, you'll hear the pat response, the "I just don't want to ruin our friendship" or "I don't want to date anyone from work" line. These are kind of the bullshit responses by someone who just wants to be nice and doesn't want to deal with anything more detailed. They're totally useless and or totally frustrating because it makes you wonder that much more.

Sometimes, you do get the truth. This can be a good thing or it could be a bad thing, but in both instances, it could be kind of painful. I can't handle the truth.

The best kind of response is helpful, accurate response. These responses do hurt, but at least they give you a sense of what you did wrong so you can do better next time. Typical of these responses are things like "you came on too strong and scared me off" or "I just don't feel like you really hear what I say." Lesson learned.

On the other hand, sometimes the truth isn't helpful at all. In fact, sometimes the truth makes you want to do nothing but drink heavily and listen to Nirvana. What I mean by this is when you hear things like "I'm sorry, but I've been sleeping with my roomate for the past six months and I think I'm in love even though it's a really fucked-up relationship" or "you have yellow teeth." There's no good in hearing those responses.

And no, these things did not happen to me, I'm just making them up as something that would be awful to hear. Besides, yellow teeth is a common dental thing and doesn't really mean anything and a lot of people have yellowish teeth and it's a totally stupid reason not to go to a dance with someone.

Remember all that stuff I just posted about what a good boy I am and how I would never, ever do anything bad?

I just broke one of the biggest rules in the book- got into the Fifteen Item Express lane at Safeway with way more than 15 items. A whole week's worth of food items.

It's not my fault, I swear. See, the sign saying "15 Item Line" is parallel to the cashier and starts right at the front of the checkout line. Which means that when you're in line, you can't read the sign because it's right above you. And there was a little sign on the conveyor belt thingy saying the same thing,except it was right by the cashier so you don't really see it until it's too late. It's like putting up a sign saying "You cannot ride this Roller Coaster if you're under…." right at the top of the first drop.

See, I'm not a bonehead, I swear! It's just bad signage. I'm not a bonhead.

And now back to our continuing story…..

So I've been waiting to hear back from that Ad Agency over the past week. The one where I had all these strange coincidences connecting me to it, so much so that having just seen Signs, I was pretty sure we are about to be invaded by Aliens.

Today, I finally heard back.

Let's just say that I'm now pretty convinced that Signs is a complete piece of crap. Signs and coincidences don't mean jack shit, just random occurring things that don't lead up to much of anything. I also learned that really good connections aren't really good if the only way you're connecting to them is mainly through drinking.

How desperate am I now? Months ago, I wrote about how I had an interview for a job in San Mateo (about 15-20 miles outside of SF, an hour by train) and how I didn't really want to do the commute. Didn't want to be Commuting Man. Today, however, I had an interview in Sunnyvale, which is about 40 miles away from SF, on the edge of San Jose. Even worse, the CalTrain station isn't close to the office so if I were to get it, I'd have to get a car and drive. Even worse, it's one of the most God-awful commutes in the country.

To get to the interview, I had to borrow a friend's car. I'm such a City Guy that I haven't really driven a car in maybe a year or two. My friend's car is also stick and I'm pretty sure I haven't driven stick in a good four years. I wouldn't loan out my car to me. My friend is actually the only person to have ever let me drive their car (other than my parents), an act to which I repaid him by trashing the clutch. Lest you think I'm an awful driver, you try parallel parking on a huge hill in North Beach (I've also had a motor scooter given to me for a week and crashed that too).

The job is eh. Eh all around. The products pretty boring, the office is total Silicon Valley (air conditioned cubicles in an Industrial park in the middle of nowhere), and most of the people in the office seemed to be frumpy middle-aged people. I looked to and fro when I was there, but couldn't find anyone young and slightly non-big-haired. This is all a big change from where I've worked before and so far from what I've hoped for in looking for a job.

On the other hand, the money's really good and most importantly, it's a job. And I need a job right now because if I don't get this, it's r'uh oh time.

You hear a lot about the California dream. The mythology of the state and the idea. But it's not really about Little Surfer Girl or not being able to check out some dumb hotel. It's about making some sort of Faustian Bargain. You can live here, in one of the most beautiful, exciting, perfect places on the face of the earth, but it'll cost you. Whether it's high rent or out of control real estate or long-ass commute or long hours to afford the out of control real estate, at some point, in order to stay here, there's gonna be some sort of sucking it up involved.

And it looks like if I really want to stay here, I'm gonna be doing some major league sucking it up.

On top of that, Marquis Grissom just climbed up over the wall to rob Rich Aurillia of a game-tying home run. I feel sick.

And yes, it is the High Holy Days, thanks for asking. Monday is Yom Kippur and last Friday was Rosh Hashanah. I was gonna post a long, bitter piece about why I'm not really into going to services, but as I'm still in need of a job, I'm gonna hedge my bets and not piss off any sort of diety or force that might get all huffy if I diss Him.

Not only that, I'm not going to services, not taking the days off from work, and not fasting. I can't afford to go to services (they're super expensive) which is the same reason why I can't take time off from work (need cash). Besides, I hate services. Not just because they're boring, but most of them resemble the skit in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life where all the services consist of toadying up to the Lord for being so big, huge and, well, "just so super". I also have an interview tomorrow and damnit, priorities. I'm sure even the Big Guy would understand. If He doesn't, I'm screwed.

Why I'm not fasting is, well, complicated.

The idea behind is fasting is to be some sort of symbolic purge. You purge yourself of your sins and your slate is wiped clean as it were from the Book of Life. I, however, don't think I need to do that much fasting. There's not much in the past year that I've done that could cause me to do some serious fasting. I'm a good boy, a nice boy, you're all around, nice Jewish boy. I don't cause much trouble, I try to avoid doing anything wrong, and always try do the right thing. I vote Democrat, don’t own an SUV and love all kittens and puppies

That's why I don't think I need to fast the whole day. Maybe for part of the day, but not for the full 24 hours. In fact, consider the shit I've had happen to me this past year, I think I'm owed a pig-out on Monday. Not only that, but in the past year, I've been dicked over for a lot of jobs, dumped twice, and had my bike stolen. All of which are far worse things than I've done this year. The way I see it, there should be a lot of people fasting on my account.

To figure out just how good or bad of a boy I've been, let's tally up the score, based on the The Ten Commandments (and no, not the movie).

1) Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
I can't really say I believe in God. There's a term for my Theistic philosophy, but I can't really recall what it's called right now. I do know it's somewhere along the lines of George Costanza's belief that the only reason for the existence of God is to screw him over. Since I don't really believe in God- any god- then, I can't really say I have any gods before God. I'm good on this one.

2)Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.
Hmm. Let's see, I have thought a lot of not nice thoughts about the Big Guy in my head, but I'm pretty sure that's okay. In fact, it's one of the cool things about being Jewish, that it's one of the nature's of the religion to constantly question the existence of God and you're relationship with Him (you've seen Fiddler on the Roof). Even the Black Hats (the Hassidim) constantly question God. This is different from certain religions which will remain nameless in which you're not allowed to think about anything. Ever.

As for saying bad things out loud against Jehovah ("stone him! Stone him!"), my usual curses are "mother fucker" and "Jesus Fucking Christ," which I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear for because I'm Jewish. I do, however, have a propensity for muttering "God damn, motherfucking Son of bitch" when I'm really pissed off. Have a feeling that's kind of a bad kind of curse. Got me on that one.

3)Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them
Hmm, I do have kind of a Buffy shrine going in my apartment, does that count?

4)Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.
Technically, I do not keep the Sabbath holy. I do not go to Temple and do not turn off all the electricity and refuse to answer the phone or preroll my toilet paper so I don't have to expend the energy to tear it when I'm taking a shit. On the other hand, the point of the Sabbath is to take it easy and relax, to do anything other than work or something really strenuous. Since most of my Saturday's consist of napping, playing softball, watching the ball game and the occasional Real World marathon, I think I'm golden.


5)Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long.
We'll just skip this one

6)Thou shalt not kill.
In the clear here.

7)Thou shalt not commit adultery.
I'm single as single can be so I don't think I have much to worry about with this one.

8)Thou shalt not steal.
When I was a kid, I once stole a guitar pick from a music store. I was so guilt ridden, I went back to the store and returned it. In other words, I am not a crook. One could, however, make the case that by puttting eight hours on my Temp agency time card when I really probably only work six hours and spend the other two hours taking a really long lunch, reading the New York Times and the Washington Post, and checking out the Buffy Boards that that's a form of stealing, I do, however, make the daily quota.

We'll call this a draw.

9)Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.

I'm not a great liar, either, but have lied on occasion. Not "I did not have sexual relations with that woman" or "invest in Enron, they're a great company" kind of lies, but little white lies. And aren't little white lies what makes society flow so well? And I have started lying through my teeth during job interviews, but damnit, I needs a job.

Oh well, guess I'm guilty of this one. But not by a lot.

10)Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor's.
Since my neighbor's kind of hot, I could be accused of coveting her, but I don't know her well enough to know if I covet anything else of her's. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have a wife, manservant, ox, nor ass (animal, ass, not the other kind, although it's rather nice), so I think I'm okay on this one.

See, that's not such a bad year. It's not like I've bilked shareholders, wrote Slander, or gotten busted with some rock cocaine while daddy is up for re-election.

Besides, I hate fasting. Have you ever tried it? It sucks. Especially if you do go to services. It's so boring all you can do is sit there and think about how much you really, really, really want a burrito.

Oh. My. God.

Only an hour away from the new Sopranos.

Oh My God.

Anyways, why do people leave baseball games really early? Went to the Giants game today and people started leaving at the beginning of the 7th inning, before even the 7th Inning Stretch. Why?

When I was a young boy, my daddy put me on his knee and said "son, never leave a baseball game until it's over" (he also said never swing at the first pitch, but that's another story). Yeah, the Giants were down 3-1 and looking kind of lifeless, but still. It's like sitting through a movie and leaving right before the climax. Granted, it's a long, three hour, occasionally dull and actionless movie, kind of like a French flick, but if you leave early, you could miss all the big fun.

And they did. After a few bad calls, there was a long ten minute arguement between like the entire Giants bench and the home plate empire. Dusty Baker went at twice, even having to be restrained, and Benito Santiago got ejected right around the time he started kicking some blown wrapping paper all over the place. Then the game ended in a bases loaded, bottom of the ninth scenario with both Bonds and Kent up. Of course, they both went down looking, but it was pretty darn exciting.

Wow, I'm getting a lot of hits looking for info on that Levi's Inland Invasion Concert for Over-the-hill Punk Sell-Outs. Hopefully, if they read what I wrote, they might have different views about going.

Remember kids, corporate sponsorship of concert events is not Punk Rock. So not punk rock. And remember too, just because it's a bunch of old punk bands playing doesn't make it anything different than seeing a Kansas/Styx/Foreigner show.

By, the way, if anyone thinks Blink-182 is punk, go out right now and buy some Husker Du albums. That's an order.

And now let's consider the case of Jackie Chan. Dude makes tons of movies in Hong Kong and becomes one of the biggest action stars in the world. Except of course in America because we here don't like movies starring foreigners who speak funny. His fight scenes are almost ballet-like and jaw-droppingly amazing, especially when considering he did them all himself. Some of his flicks, like Drunken Master II and Police Story II are considered masterpieces. In fact, he is often compared to Buster Keaton for his movie's visual craft and precision like beauty of the stunts.

Completely rich and well-known pretty much everywhere but in the U.S., he comes to Hollywood to make his fame in America. They give him a buddy flick with Chris Tucker that's mildly funny and another one with Owen Wilson that was also mildly funny (and should have been much funnier considering it had Owen Wilson in it). All were mildly successful enough to spawn sequels, but none ever came close to the artistry of his earlier work. Probably because Hollywood sucks.

Still, Chan's fans (of which I include myself, although I'm not fanatical about it or have seen every one of his movies but have sat through an entire movie that was neither subtitled or dubbed because the rental box was wrong) hold out hope that with all of his talent and all of the talent and money in Hollywood, he would still be able to churn out another classic. Show them how to do it, as it were.

And now this, his new movie, The Tuxedo, costarring (and I am not making this up) Jennifer Love Hewitt. Jennifer Love Hewitt.

Somewhere, somebody thought this was a good idea. Somewhere, somebody put up money for this idea. Somewhere, somebody thinks this is gonna be a good movie.

I can't get a job yet somebody in Hollywood making buckets of money thought this piece of shit up. People are starving in Africa and someone put up the money to make this piece of shit.

Oh Jackie....

I am so honored that somebody found my little ole site by doing a search using these words- Ben Piece of shit cd taker leader fucking wannabe.

Welcome.

And by the way, it is now only two (two!) days from The Sopranos season premiere. And did you know to that you can actually bet on which character is gonna get whacked this season?

Oddsmaker lists Ralphie Cifaretto as most likely to be whacked in `The Sopranos'

Here's the odds-

Ralphie- 5/6
Uncle Junior-8/5 odds.
Furio Giunta-2/1 odds
Paulie Walnuts- 3/1 odds
Christopher Moltisanti-4/1 odds
Tony-10/1 odds

PS- Mmmm.....Meadow.

I called.

I love it when your contact at the company you interviewed with gets kind of snippy with you when you call to find out about a job. It's not like she said that they'll try and let me know by early this week. Yeah, she did kind of put it in grey terms, but she did say early this week. So when I didn't hear back, I called. I just to find out what was up and nothing more. Humour me.

While she was doing her best to be polite, I could hear the little tone of irritation in her voice. I could tell she was thinking "God damnit, why is this guy calling me? Doesn't he know how busy I am? I told him I'll tell him when I know." Well, sorry. The lack of sleep and the constant checking of my messages every half an hour over the past four days made me a little cranky. It's only my life we're talking about.

She told me what I thought, that the decision was held up because HR hadn't signed off on the position yet. I'll back off from bitching about why interview people when the position hasn't been signed off yet because she thought it would be signed off on when she started interviewing people. But it wasn't. Quelle surprise. Every HR department I've ever dealt with, that I've heard of, is like this.

Can someone tell me what the fuck HR actually does? Aren't they supposed to get people into a position when the position needs to be filled? Why can't HR just sign off on the thing? Isn't that what HR is supposed to do?

Everyplace I worked, the HR department never had a good reputation. They were usually known for being impossible to reach, always unable to help anyone when they needed the help, and prone to coming up with stupid silly "team building" things when there were about a hundred more important things to be done. And considering how many badly run interviews I've been on, or mistreatment by one company or another, I wonder just what HR is doing at those places. Coming up with Silly Hat days?

Why can't the HR people at this place sign off on this job? The people in the department are all working 60 hours a week because they're short handed and five people (including me) or all sitting around waiting for an answer. It should be an easy thing to do. Have a meeting and sign the paper. Just sign the paper. That's pretty much it. Why can't they do it? Gossiping doesn't take up an entire day, after all. Is there something to HR that they do that I just don't know? Something that's terribly important and not only explains why they can't sign off on this thing but why every place I've ever worked at they've been pretty lame? It could explain why months ago I was let go from the Temp assignment at PG&E's HR department, because I didn't know all the secret things that HR does.

Are they too busy working on the companies Halloween party? Are they waiting for a full moon so they can do some Satanic ritual to check the signs on a hiring? Are they waiting for the new letterhead to arrive so they can sign the paper using the new "official" company paper? When I worked for a publishing company years ago, I always used to joke that the decision making process in HR department was like out of Twin Peaks that before the head of the Department would make decisions only after having dreams involving dancing dwarves. Maybe that's it.

And all of this means that I could find out tomorrow. Or I could find out early next week. Or late next week. Or sometime around Halloween. Or when I'm busy buying a car for a possible job in Sunnyvale. Or when I've moved back home and spend all my time watching soap operas because there's nothing to fucking do in Harrisburg PA.

Looks like I picked a bad week to stop sniffing glue.

Still haven't heard back yet from that company. I know she's back and I know there's other goings-on over there, but still. Throw me a frickin' bone, here people.

As I type away at work, trying not to freak out or get pissed off, I find myself coming back to these inspirational words by White Lion:

"Wait-wait
I never had a chance to love you
wait-wait
if only our love could show you
wait-wait
I never wanna be without you
wait-wait
no I never had a chance to love you
now I only wanna say I love you
one more time
wait... "

They just don't write songs like that anymore.

Thank God.

Notes From a Strange Day.

Wake up totally exhausted and tired from not enough sleep. Already feel out of sorts. Dreamt I was living in Harrisburg. It was not a pleasant dream.

Cover of the Examiner proclaims that it comes with a free poster- as a collector's item I guess- of the cover from a year ago. The cover features a large picturesof the second plane slamming into one of the Towers with the headline "BASTARDS!" Lovely. I know I'll be putting it up in my apartment soon. The Chon, on the other hand is tastefully done with a picture of a torn and frayed American flag on the cover. Every page inside has a black border around it and the Op/Ed page has this cool thing where they have the Roman numeral IX on the top fold of the page and then the Roman Numeral XI on the bottom of the fold (think about it). Pretty cool. Whoever came up with that idea is pretty stoked. The Bay Guardian, on the other hand, has it's usual subtle cover with a headline blaring "The War At Home" with a cartoon of John Ashcroft tearing the Constitution in half while standing above the cityscape of New York like some sort of Godzilla. In the background, the Towers burn away. Hmm, I wonder what they're trying to say? I can't quite get the message here.

Get into work and put on the Howard Stern show. He's been spending most of the morning interviewing B-list celebrities about their opinion of what It All Means. I like Michael J. Fox and have nothing bad to say about him, but I don't care what he thinks about 9/11. And I'm pretty sure Jon Bon Jovi didn't really have anything illuminating to say either. Do people still have to shill themselves even on a day like this?

They start playing the rebroadcast of last year's show. There they are, talking about Howard making out with Pamela Anderson at some strip club when somebody comes in and tells them a plane hit one of the Towers. Howard looks out the window, sees the smoke and the show goes on. They joke around a bit more, then somebody comes in and says that the other tower's been hit. You can hear the moment when they realize what's up. Howard suddenly proclaims that we're under attack and Robin keeps on saying "oh my God" over and over again. The comedian who was there that day keeps on trying to make jokes but gets shut up really fast. I don't want to relive the day, but I'm sucked in. It always sucks you in. No matter how hard I try, if I see footage on some news channel, I watch for a bit. I can't help it, it just happens. I'm reliving the day again. I'm so sucked in, I don't realize I haven't taken a break in over an hour.

It's good to hear that even back then, they were making jokes about the President always being on vacation. When somebody mentions that a plane might be going towards the White House, somebody asks why they'd do something like that since the President is never there. I also get a kick out of the fact that when they play Bush's first Press Conference after the attack, they all laugh when somebody notices that one of the first things Bush says is that "he's been in contact with the Vice President." I'm so used to Bush saying stuff like that these days that I stopped noticing how idiotic it sounds. "Don't worry, I talked to somebody who knows what to do…."

The show turns into a bunch of people calling up and talking about wanting to nuke the "towel-heads." It turns into a war pep rally. Living in SF, I forget what it's like elsewhere, where Patriotism is associated with kicking butt and people seem almost gleeful about the idea of going to war. Here in SF, protestors were babbling away on a megaphone when I got out of BART and handing out flyers. At the same time as the Howard Stern show, a caller on the Sarah and No Name show starts babbling about the irony of all the memorials when "there's so much oppression in this country." Sigh. I'm not sure which argument is worse. Later, on Talk of the Nation on NPR a fight about Berkley breaks out between an ex-professor and a student there. Will everyone just shut-up?

Check my e-mail and notice that some girl named Kathy knows who I am and really, really wants to get in touch with me. She's absolutely positive we'd hit it off and I'd be able to see the same thing if I only checked out her Web site. As flattered as I am, I notice that she says she's 36. What kind of spam mail list could I be on that knows that I'm closer to 36 than 26? And that I'd prefer 36 to 26?


Great line from Maureen Dowd:

"The first President Bush has told people lately how impressed he is that his son goes to bed every night without a worry in his head.

Should the nation really take comfort in this fact?"

Go to Levi Plaza for lunch. Somewhere, there's a jazz band playing. Flags are laid out everywhere. I sit on one side of the bench and as I sit down, the person at the other end quickly gets up and leaves the bench. Bitch.

KFOG is playing all happy, relaxing tunes today. At one point, they even bust out Joey Ramone's great cover of "What a Wonderful World," a song which ironically was one of the one's banned by Clear Channel. KFOG is especially good today, much better than the other stations, which have all been playing their usual schlop. Somehow, hearing some band screaming about mommy not loving them enough and their girlfriend leaving seems kind of lame today. KFOG plays the Dead's "Ripple," a song I haven't heard in years. Forgot what a great song it was.

The Bone, meanwhile, busts out songs for it's "Workforce Lunch Break" or whatever it is they call their noon show. It's the same name they called the noon show on WMMR in Philly when I went to High School. In fact, it's the same songs that WMMR played in Philly when I was in High School The Bone is like travelling back fifteen years and pretending that nothing has changed. Somebody requests Sammy Hagar's VOA in honor of today. I love the lyrics. They're just so appropiate.

Raise the Flag! Let it wave.
Shoot them down to their graves, yeah.
Spread the news for all to hear.
We've come to fight, let's make that clear.
You push too hard, you're gonna fall.
We got fifty million rockers, we're all on guard, yeah!
We don't like it. (Oh, no!)
We can make it stop (Oh, yeah!)
We won't take it (C'mon!)
Let it rock!
You in the middle east, you be on your toes.
We're bound to strike, everybody knows.
Just tell your friends, the USSR
We're gonna, we're gonna crash that party, 'cause they've gone too far, yeah!

Yeah, you hear us? Fifty million rockers are gonna go save the world.


KSJO, meanwhile, occasionally will play a promo "in memory of the victims" which comprises of Hendrix's National Anthem, a Bush speech, and Gene Simmons telling everyone how much he loves America. Thanks Gene. And nothing quite stirs the soul like the playing of that promo right before Van Halen's "Hot For Teacher."

Hear snippets of one of Bush's speeches today on the radio. Once again, I get that jealous feeling I get whenever Bush speaks- that the older Generations in times of trouble, got FDR and JFK. We got W. It's….just….not…..fair…… I want an FDR. Wouldn't you love to know what European leaders say about our President behind his back and when there's nobody around to hear them? Sigh.

The Giants lose 7-2. Oh well. I guess asking for a three game sweep of the Dodgers is still too much. There both tied for the Wild Card now. Hang onto your seatbelts.

And Johnny Unitas died today. Wonder what's gonna be a bigger story in Baltimore tomorrow, the 9/11 celebrations or Johnny Unitas' death?

Coming home from work, I read the SF Weekly. It's got a great bit about what else has happened on 9/11. Ironically, on this date, Henry Hudson first stumbled upon Manhattan way back in 1609 and in 1941, construction starts on the Pentagon. It's also the anniversary of the issuing of the Ken Starr Report. I wonder which date did more harm to America, the Ken Starr Report or the terrorist attacks. Yes, the terrorist attacks led to war and thousands of people's death, but the report was the culmination of a complete waste of everyone's time and energy when everyone should have been doing something more important. Like why this weird guy with a beard kept on going on TV and declaring war on the United States and blowing things up.

The Bay Guardian's main editorial criticizes the war in Afghanistan. Which makes them one of maybe five people who still thinks it was a bad thing to (notice I said the war, not what's going on now or how we've completely abandoned the poor Afghans or how we might have let Osama escape because we were too afraid to put soldiers on the ground in Tora Bora.). in the Editorial, they call an article by Thomas Friedman about 9/11 as "glaringly naïve analysis of the geopoltics of the Sept. 11 attacks" and then adds that it's "laughable." Let's see, whose opinion should I trust more about 9/11, an editor of a lame free weekly paper or a Pulitzer Prize columnist for the New York Times? Apparently, Noam Chomsky is more of an authority of the Middle East than Friedman.

MTV's playing Bob Marley and Aimee Mann tonight. Wha?

You know, at the end of the day, I realize that the only thing that matters is that it's only four days until the Premiere of the Sopranos. And from all the commercials, Meadow's doing a lot of slinking around in tight outfits.

Mmmmm……Meadow.

I know, I know it's 9/11 (and speaking of which, will "9/11" still be "9/11" now that it's been a year or will it now be called "9/11/01"?) and there's a bigger perspective to everything and my tiny foibles aren't important today and my life is so much better than a lot of other people's right now, but.....

Friggin person at the place I've been waiting to hear back from has been gone all week. Here I am pretty much trying to keep from having a complete mental breakdown, half ready to call the movers to move home, unable to sleep and drinking heavily to deal with it all, and she's been out.

Won't be back til tomorrow.

Che va in culo a sua madre, non mi scazzare i coglioni, affanculo!

As a wise man once sang, the waiting is the hardest part.

Haven't heard back about the job yet and I was supposed to by now. No news is good news, right? Right?

I wonder, though, if I should completely write off tomorrow as a day to be waiting for a phone call, what with it being the big 9/11 Anniversary. Just how much official type business stuff will be done tomorrow anyways? And would they call people about jobs tomorrow? It might be allright to call someone to let them know they got a job- the whole spreading good cheer thing on a gloomy and depressing day, but what about calling someone to let them know they didn't get a job? I know I'd feel kind of awkward telling someone on 9/11 that they didn't get a job they really wanted. Hell, for all they know I could have grown up with Todd Beamer.

Ugh.

And by the way, while I don't really want to watch TV tomorrow or catch any of the "retrospectives" (I see Larry King is having Sarah Ferguson on tomorrow night as a special guest. I guess she'll let us know how Weight Watchers can help us cope with terrorism), for some reason, I want to listen to the Howard Stern show. It sounds like Howard's going to replay his show from last year when it all went down. Something about the switch from Lesbian Dial-a-Date to "oh my God, we're being attacked" sounds kind of intriguing. Kind of sums it all up, don't you think?

I've already volunteered the girls in Sorority Life to man the front lines in case we go to war against Iraq, but here's some more people who could join them...

From ESPN.com:
PETA wants 'Soysage' in traditional race

On Thursday, officials from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) faxed a letter to the commissioner's daughter Wendy Selig-Prieb, president and CEO of the Milwaukee Brewers, asking that a fifth sausage -- a veggie dog -- be allowed to compete in the Brewers traditional post sixth-inning race where people dressed in the various meat costumes race from the
bullpen to the home plate.

Aye carumba

I get back from lunch and check my messages. For the first time all day, I hear the voice-mail voice telling me I have a new message. This could be it.

My heart races, my stomache twists and my legs buckle. I cannot breathe. I have that same feeling you get when you reach the top of the first hill on a roller coaster and you look down to see the sharp,sheer drop followed by a couple harrowing barrel-rolls, corkscrew turns and one huge loop-de-loop.

It's a message from a friend calling to ask a question. My heart slows down, my stomache untwists itself and I let out a breathe.

D'oh.

I'm still waiting.

So I think I figured out my way around this whole stressing out for a phone call thing. Basically, it's just a matter of being so hungover that the four or five brain cells that are actually working are too busy trying to stay awake that it's impossible to get stressed out.

Of course, the problem with this technique is that being hungover also means lots and lots of coffee and as we all know, too much caffeine can make one stressed out. Which means I've been alternating between a caffiene-adled stress and comatose all morning.

It's gonna be a long day.

Just call, damnit, call

So I submitted something to some Web site, which will remain nameless for purposes of their sucking, and got rejected. Which is fine because that's all part of the life of the wannabe writer. It's just that the message they sent me was this :"thanks, but no thanks."

Could they be more snippy? I never thought form letters would seem much more polite.

Anyways, here it is. Yeah, laugh's on them, I published it online anyways. I have to admit, though, that I rewrote major parts of it late last night, which is probably why it's not sharp as it should be. Still, I think the concept is pretty good.

Fuckers.

Many a writer and poet have written of the romance of spring. Of how springtime represents renewal and rebirth. Of the harsh chill of winter giving way to the warm, loving sun. Of flowers blooming and leaves returning. Why, just the thought of springtime makes one think of children emerging bleary-eyed from their homes, emerging to laugh and dance around the maypole, the sounds of Tschiakvosky's "The Rites of Spring" in the background.

Spring schming. Give me the cold chill of fall. The fading of the sun and the falling of the leaves.

Why? Three words: New Fall Season.

All new episodes for months. Does it get any better than that?

You want renewal? I've got your renewal. New "Buffy." New "Friends" and "West Wing." New "Simpsons" and even a new "Real World." And the bestest of them all- new "Soprano's". And finally, after months of waiting, we get all of our big questions finally answered. Like what's up with Spike's new soul and whether Buffy will finally stop being a drip. Or what happens with the whole Rachel/Ross/Joey triangle (on second thought, forget about that whole plotline). Not to mention all those great cliffhangers and plot twists that happened on shows that I never watch but some people do.

And you want rebirth, I'll give you rebirth. A whole slew of new shows, all fresh and new, and all vying to be the next "Friends" or "E.R." There's just so much hope in the TV universe despite that fact that most will be yanked before anyone has even the slightest change to watch them. That is if anybody would even think about watching them because there's a good chance that most of them will be awful. It's kind of like how in spring, you get all that drivel about the metaphor between baseball and spring and how baseball brings a new season and how every team starts anew and blah, blah, blah. Well, September's like that too, except that while, say a Tigers fan pretty much knows their team's gonna suck and they have to suffer through an entire 162 game season, with TV, there's a good chance you'll only have to suffer through an episode or two of "Emeril."

Just think about it. No more having to decide if you could sit through one more viewing of an episode you've already seen a bunch of times. No more settling through "American Idol" or "the Anna Nicole Smith Show" just because there's nothing else on. No more working on hobbies or reading a book. We're talking about hours and hours, weeks and weeks, months upon months of brand new frickin' shows.

Bring it on. It's been a long summer.

At any minute, any second, I'm supposed to hear get the call that let's me know whether or not I got the job I interviewed for last week. I am not handling it well. I'm handling it a jealous boyfriend waiting for his girlfriend to return. A psychotic, crazed boyfriend at that. I am the Jon Favreau character in Swingers.

I know they are supposed to make a decision "early this week" which could mean today. Could mean tomorrow, or could mean Wednesday. Or, it could mean sometime much, much later. All I know is that I'm sitting here all day at the Temp Job, typing away, and trying not to completely freak out. Unfortunately, when doing data entry, there's not a whole lot of things you have to think about other than what awful things can befall you.

Have they made a decision yet? Have they not had time to figure it all out? Are they just waiting on approval from HR? Have they just been swamped in meetings all day? Or have they offered the job to someone else already and are just waiting back to hear from them?

And once again, so much is riding on one phone call. Just....one...phone....call.

Call, damnit, call.

Well I was gonna go on a long rant about the media overkill surrounding 9/11, but I changed my mind. I turned on 60 Minutes tonight and saw that they were going to fill the show with stories on 9/11 and since I didn't want to see that, I flipped the channels and managed to catch what was on Datleline NBC. Datleline NBC had a story about Princess Di. Guess the people at Datleline NBC didn't see the irony of it. So I watched football, but it did occur to me that maybe parts of the media overkill isn't such a bad thing.

But because the anniversary of 9/11 is coming up and it's almost Federally Mandated that anyone who can has to write about it and Reflect Upon the Meaning of it All, I'm gonna write something. Besides, if I don't, I might get harassed by John Ashcroft (cough* asshole * cough).

First of all, I am not gonna write my story about how I find out. Besides being pretty boring (it involves strange rumblings on a radio in a liquor store and a crying yoga teacher), whatever happened to me isn't that important. I don't really like those stories because in a way, it's people trying to inject themselves into the drama of the day. Like people feel kind of bad that they weren't part of the awful events that day, so by telling their story about hearing about it on the radio, they'll somehow put themselves in the drama. Awful, horrible things happened that day, but not to me. And not to most people in this country. In fact, while everyone spouts off about how "everything has changed" since then, other than it might be making it harder for me to find work and being scared to death that the fate of the world relies on an overgrown Frat boy who probably never heard of Pakistan up until a year ago, it hasn't changed me at all.

My main thing is that with all that's gone on, it's like we're being told how we're supposed to feel and act. Which I hate because I hate it whenever somebody tells me I'm supposed to feel a certain way. What happened was too big and too awful of an event for anything to completely relate to people the wide variety of feelings that people have. But yet they'll try.

Salon is running a great article about people's forbidden feelings about that day. Like how a bunch of people just went out and had mad crazy monkey sex or how Firemen in NY became totally obnoxious in bars by constantly saying things like "I haven't been the same since my buddy died…." in order to pick up chicks. My favorite one is this one:

"I hated the New York Times profiles of all the deceased. It's just that everyone they wrote about -- all 2,000 people -- were depicted as really nice, really devoted parents who came home every night at 5 p.m. to make dinner, play with the kids, never missed a soccer game, and proposed to their girlfriend in a really sweet, creative way. I would read these profiles every day and think, yeah right. Was everyone in the WTC a super amazing person? Someone who worked there must have been an asshole." -- Female reporter at a major business magazine

I love the article because since 9/11 I know there's a lot more feelings out there like that than reports let on. I know, for instance, that when I was in New York, my friends would immediately start rolling their eyes whenever somebody on TV said something in tribute to New York. I also know too that people were starting to get sick of hearing "God Bless America" during the 7th inning stretch of baseball games (which is why they stopped it).

Right now, there a lot of forbidden thoughts that I have. Like how I can't take another tribute or a moment of silence. Or that I'm tired of seeing Rudy Guilliani and wish he'd go away for awhile. And I hate that everything big that happens now has to have some sort of commemoration, like the All Star game or the opening of the Football Season. It's like when I saw U2 last fall and after the umpteenth reminder of 9/11 during the show, I wanted to yell out to Bono "shut the fuck up and fucking rawwwk!" (a common reaction, though, whenever you see U2 in concert).

Besides, you could also argue that in a country in which millions watched "American Idol" and that there seems to be no outrage that the President has managed to weasel out of every international accord, treaty, and summit, that nothing has changed at all. I'm not even gonna get into the whole oil dependency, SUV thing. Or John Ashcroft.

As for what I'm going to do this Wednesday, the Anniversary, I'm not gonna do a damn thing. Maybe watch the ballgame. Maybe rent a couple of movies or maybe go to a bar. One thing I won't do is turn on the TV and watch any part of what's going on the news. I don't want to hear about it. I don't want to be told What We Learned and How We Feel.

And most importantly, I don't want to have to relive that awful day. No sireee. Having to watch all the footage over again is just too much. It's like having to relive a day in which you get dumped on video. You see yourself wake up and go through the day, all happy and unsuspecting and excited for the big date. Then, of course, is the dumping and you get to see that too, except you'll be able to see the exact moment in which you heart is shattered into six or seven pieces, all from five or six camera angels and in slow motion. Once that's over, you get to watch you go home and down a bottle of wine to kill the pain. That's all followed by the day the day after, when you wake up to go to work and can't really see the point in it and spend the week listening to Nirvana and really depressing mixed tapes that you've made. That is, of course, when you're not spending all your time on the couch watching TV and wearing out your video taped copy of the Buffy musical (not that I've ever been like that, I'm just saying). And that's what watching all the footage will be like.

So there's my 9/11 thing. Now I can get back to bitching about being unemployed.

Why, despite all of it's problems, baseball kicks football's butt-

Because no baseball team has ever lost a game because of an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty after time runs out which leads to a game-winning field goal because of some rule that no game can end on a defensive penalty.

There is no "unsportsmanlike conduct penalty " in baseball and there is no rule stating that a game cannot end on a defensive penalty. In fact, there is no such thing as a defensive penalty. In baseball, the game's over when the last out is recorded. No muss, no fuss, no stupid rules.

And because one team, the A's, can win 23 out of 22 games and still be in a tight pennant race because the team right behind them has won ten in a row.

Oh yeah. The Giants are now a game behind the Dodgers with the Dodgers coming into Pac Bell for a three game series. Next week, a four game series at Chavez Ravine. Yep, a Dodgers/Giants pennant race. Is there be anything better than that?

Bring it on.

So I was gonna have a rant here about some contest that I keep on hearing about on Live105. It's for the Levi's Inland Invasion 2, some corporate sponsored punk concert and how there's so nothing punk rock about a concert sponsored by Levi's. Just as there's SO nothing punk rock about the Levi's Punk Rock Party Plane, but then I saw the concert listing and whose playing and it's all too depressing.

In a concert sponsored by Levi's and Clear Channel Entertainment, at the Blockbuster Pavillion, will be:

Sex Pistols
Offspring
Blink 182
Buzzcocks
TSOL
Circle Jerks
GBH
Pennywise
Bad Religion Distillers
New Found Glory
X
The Damned
Social Distortion
The Vandals
Unwritten Law
Adolescents

See, I was gonna say how those kids who grow up thinking that Blink-182 is a punk band, let alone Sum-41 and whatever other lame-ass bubble-gum punk rock band that constantly gets played on the radio, isn't really punk rock because it's way too clean and corporate. And that those kids should listen to some old skool punk bands to find out what punk is really about (editor's note- I am not really "punk rock" either, but have done some amount of slamming back in the day as well as spent my fair share of time in parking lots in Isla Vista drinking Mesiterbrau and listening to punk bands), but then I find out that all those old skool punk rock groups have now officially sold out just like everyone else.

Nevermind.

It finally happened. I knew it would eventually come, but it did.

I got my first religious spam-mail. So nice to see that somebody's concerned about something other than my dick-size, hidden desire to see some Britney Spears porn, or my desire to work at home.

Some really nice guy, I guess, knew what things have been like told me about some guy he met and how this person changed his life. This man, of course, was Jesus. "After 42 years of struggling with the meaning of life," this guy tells me, "and what the purpose of my life should be" his new pal Jesus cleared it all up for him.

No mention of just where he met Jesus.

I guess it was only natural that at some point, people would start sending out religious related spam mail, but it's still kind of weird. I mean, how did he know to send it to me? Did Jesus tell him that I've been needing some help lately and does Jesus know that I'm Jewish. Or maybe the guy knew I was Jewish and decided to send it to me because I need to be saved? Is there some sort of mailing list of Jews that's available? Maybe he hocked into our super-secret e-mail mail list because, you know, we do control the world and communicate such things via e-mail these days. Or maybe he got the same list that all the porn people are hooked into and decided that that proves he needs to save me. Maybe he hocked into some porn site that I might have *cough* accidently stumbled upon and got my name that way?

Who knows?

Maybe Jesus does…..

That choking sound y'all just probably heard an hour or two ago was the sound of me biffing on the job interview. Pulled a Buckner. Too much caffiene and not enough sleep. Not to mention having to wear clothes that were way too hot and causing me to sweat like, well I don't know, I'm too tired to come up with anything funny. Plus, once again, I got nothing to work with. I met with two people who basically sat down, said "I haven't seen your resume and I don't know what Nicole told you, so, ummm, tell me a bit about yourself," and then had me do Stupid Interview Tricks. Throw me a frickin' bone here people.

But wait.....it's not a done deal...

One of the people I interviewed with I'm just one degree of seperation from, including through one of my beloved and faithful readers (hi Jessica). In fact, I might have met him somewhere sometime but can't recall it. Turns out one of my coworkers/drinking buddies from my ole dot.com days, at the infamous LookSucks, is in a band with the guy I interviewed with. Which means in a department of three people know one of them and know a friend of another one of them

And my friend who works there got the job through a recruiter who once got me a job elsewhere.

Maybe eleven years of living and heavy drinking in this city are about to pay off. Finally.

Or maybe it's all coincedences? Signs, even. Hell, I just saw Signs so maybe that's what's happening. Maybe I'll get the job. Maybe I should have faith. Maybe there really is a God.

Or maybe the only it all means is that we're just about to be invaded by aliens.

Either way, I better not fuck up tonight's draft.

I hear the fall in D.C. is lovely this time of year.