I'm supposed to be at the Temp job right now, you know earning money and all that, but instead, I'm home supposedly waiting on a 9:30 phone interview. Well, it's about 10:00 and so far, no phone interview. You know things are going well when you call the HR person who set it all up and when you ask whether or not you're supposed to be having the phone interview, she says "uh yeah, you're supposed to. Hmmm."

So now I'm filled with mixed thoughts. My first thought is the standard issue "why me?" thought. As in, "why can't I have a normal job interviewing experience like most people?" The second thought is the standard issue "fuck this and fuck that and fuck it all and fuck that fucking brat, I don't want a baby that looks like that." I mean, I'm not the one whose half an hour late here- they are. And when they finally call, they'll probably be all sheepish and give me the "ooops, sorry" to which I am, as usual, supposed to just say "thank you, sir. Would you like some lube next time?" I mean, do they really think I want to be spending my precious hours hanging by the phone?

Christ, I gotta piss like a race horse too, but I'm afraid that the moment I start pissing away, the phones going to ring.

Wow. Rest in Peace, Adriana. We'll miss you just because theres nobody else who says "Christofuh."

Goodbye "Angel." Goodbye Buffyverse and say goodnight Joss. Things really are changing, aren't they?

So the big question I'm sure everyone's wondering is where's Hooray for Anything? After continuing gigs on Treasure Island and one day as a Health Spa attendant picking up towels in a five star hotel (a perfectly kind of fun job in a now-that's-new kind of way, but after picking up towels of way too many people younger than me, all I could say after awhile is Viva La Revolution), I'm in Oaktown, doing the phone/admin thing at a place that puts organs from organ donors together with the recepients of said organs. It's kind of an organ dating service in a way.

It's kind of an interesting thing. So far, in only two days, I've handled calls involving autopsies, mismatched organs, and family members trying to donate every organ they have to sick family members. Kind of different from doing data entry or filing, n'est pas? Thing is considering the job, I can't really slack off. You know, like not pass a message along or half-ass a call transfer. It also means that when somebody calls up with a question, like how to volunteer or what to do with some kid who was in the paper because he needed a heart transplant in a few months or he's going to die, I really have to use my best phone voice. No groggy need-more caffeine voice or you're-stupid-cell-phone-keeps-on-conking-out voice.

Still, there's something kind of weird about the whole thing. Here I am a temp, on the second-day of a job. To me, it's just a phone call and a phone call transfer when in actuality, what I'm doing is helping save somebody's life. No, I'm not the doctor or the "Placement Coordinator" but just by doing my job, somebody's life could be saved.

As I said, beats the hell out of doing data entry. Yay me.

One more post about Smirkboy- the fact that nobody in his administration got the irony of reiterating his belief in a constitutional amendment banning Gay Marriage on the same day he gave a speech in "honor" of the end of segregation is mind-boggling.

George W.- you suck.

PS- "You're a short, stumpy, acne-ridden bitch"
- Katie from RW/RR Inferno

So I've been taking some time off from blogging and now I'm sort of back. Anything happen in the world while I've been gone?

Jesus Criminy, can we make more of a mess out of things? I mean, things are so bleak right now that even the bloodthirsty popinjay's on Fox are looking depressed. And those who haven't quite seen the light and are still fighting what they think is the good fight are doing so with all the enthusiasm of a crowd at a Mister Mister reunion concert. I've thought I've fucked up at work but lately, I've gotten a whole new perspective on things. I mean, sure, I've had things printed that were wrong, missed deadlines, and not returned e-mails, but I never invaded a country with not nearly enough troops. Or couldn't figure out that Al Qeda was about to fly a plane into a building and then told everyone Iraq had WMDs when they didn't. And if Rummy or Tenet can't get himself fired, how can a company justify firing anyone these days?

Which brings us to John Kerry and why I have a new theory about why a Kerry Presidency will be a good thing. And no, not just because he's Anybody But Bush.

Okay, yes, I'm about as Blue-ish as they come and I'd vote Democrat if they ran a ticket of Kelly Osborne and a Barry Bonds Bobblehead Doll (and, if things continue the way they are, they'd probably win). But still, I can't help admit to the fact that at this point, John Kerry leaves me with a big "meh" feeling. He's boring, an empty suit, seemingly devoid of any original idea, not to mention a douche-bag (on the other hand, his daughter has a nice rack ). All of which is a huge buzz kill considering just how fired up everyone is for someone, anyone, to save us. To lead us out of the woods. And we have only John Kerry to lead us the way.

It's kind of like when you really, really want to go home to see the family and you really, really want some home-cooked meal, like brisket or something. And after flying for ever and ever and putting up with all sorts of travelling BS to get there, you finally make it home only to find that you're mother only has left-over casserole for you. Yeah, it's still home-cooked and better than say, airline food, but it's still not brisket. John Kerry is left-over casserole after a long day's trip. Which isn't such a bad thing.

Let's face it, the past four years has been nothing but capital D drama. One big huge roller-coaster ride of a suck-fest- hanging chads, 9/11, the war in Iraq, the Mess in Iraq. I may not like the guy, but I almost feel sorry for the Shrub-meister (almost). Hell, throw in Clinton's "impeachment" and it's been like that for the past six years. Remember the old Chinese curse "may you live in interesting times?" Well, we're pretty frickin' cursed. And to think, at one point, my generation was known for complaining that every exciting thing in the world had already happened. Here we are, stop entertaining us.

As a result, this country is pretty close to the breaking point these days. We’re stressed out, freaked out, and plain old burnt out. We're tight and we're frazzled and we're ready to snap. Seriously, I wouldn't be half-surprised if before the election, people start shooting each other. Just as I and most of my fellow Blue Stater are completely convinced that most Red Stater types are nothing but raving idgits, most Red Staters probably think the same thing about us Blue Staters. Try watching one of those talking-head pundit shows on TV, they're all looking like they're about to beat the ever loving crap out of each other. This country is in dire need of a long weekend in Mexico full of margaritas, tacos, ocean swimming, and strip clubs. And no, I'm not projecting. Well, maybe a little.

And that's why I'm thinking John Kerry could be just what the country needs- a completely, totally, boring President. A President too spineless to do anything reckless, too smart to do anything dumb, too experienced not to know a little- just a little bit- of Middle East History. Umm, and not to mention too secular not to think he's on a mission from God. Sure he won't do anything bold that'll actually reform something, but he's not going to, say, see a memo entitled "Bin Laden to Hijack Plane and Fly it Into a Building" and not say "interesting, say, how'd the Rangers do?". And sure, he'll bore the living crap out of us for four (eight?) years, but after all that's happened, I'm not sure that's such a bad thing.

Now let's go back to that metaphor about travelling all that time to get home. You've flown for hours, you've had to switch flights half-way, you sat next to both a fat guy and a screaming baby, and the in-flight movie was "New York Minute." You finally get to where you're going at like 2 in the morning and you're too stressed and too frazzled to do anything so you turn on the TV hoping you can find something that'll at least entertain you in the dead of the night. Instead all you find is infomercials and C-Span and after deciding to watch C-Span, you find yourself slowly lulled into a deep, relaxing sleep. The kind of sleep that makes you feel just plain old alright when you wake up. That's John Kerry. And yes, that's not a great metaphor but I'm a little rusty with these blogging things.

In other words, John Kerry in '04. Better Boring than Dumb.. Bring on the Bore.

In light of the Olsen Twins appearance on "SNL" last night, I pose this question: Will the Mary Kate vs. Ashley debate be the Stones/Beatles of this generation or the Haim/Feldman?

And speaking of "SNL," it occurs to me that the lovely and talented Tina Fey went to a nearby high school around the time I was in High School. We used to play them in sports, in fact, both in football and soccer. Somewhere in some parallel universe, one much more exciting than this one, a young Tina Fey saw me in my fetching maroon band uniform and white q-tip helmet and realized that I was supposed to be the future Mr. Tina Fey.

Bumper sticker seen on car while on MUNI:

"What would Scooby-Doo?"

Re-emerging for a blog posting, old skool style- more interview fun. Although at this point, blog postings about bad interviews are kind of like later season "Buffy" episodes when they had a one-off Monster-of-the-Week plot line and pretended they hadn't totally been-there-done-that with the whole Monster-of-the-Week plot line yet everyone involved looks completely bored to be doing it again. See, Buffy reference- I told you this posting will be old skool.

So, anyways, on Friday I was twenty-five minutes late for an interview. An interview for a job in which I knew going in I probably would never get only because the job posting was asking for some serious technical stuff (Flash, Java, DART) and I don't know any of that stuff. And it should have been pretty obvious that I didn't know any of that stuff because none of it is on my resume. Yet they called me in. But I digress.


Now, you may be asking, how did I wind up twenty-five minutes late?

Interview is scheduled for three for some place in Brisbane. Having worked in Brisbane, I know the area fairly well and thought it would be easy. Or, so I thought. Here's what happened

1:45- Arrive ten minutes early at bus stop. Transit Oriented Web site says next bus will arrive at 2
2:00- No bus
2:15- Still no bus
2:18- Bus arrives
2:35- Miss bus stop. Turns out the name given on site as the place I should get off is a trailer park, not a street. Turns out too that trailer park is totally enclosed by fencing from construction work. And stop isn't announced by spiffy new P.A. system on bus. Figure there's no problem as there appears to be a stop on every block and the next stop should be coming up soon.
2:40- Haven't stopped at a bus stop yet. Apparently, stopped I missed was the last stop for a couple of miles
2:45- Finally get off. I can see where I'm supposed to go from the stop and figure I might still be able to make it. Especially if I get lucky and find a cab.
2:47- Realize there's no cab to be found. Start walking.
2:55- After walking into a dead end, I realize that there's actually no way to cross from one side of Highway 101 and the other side of Highway 101. In other words, even though I'm about a mile from where I have to go, there's absolutely no way I can walk to there. Also realize directions on Web site don't actually let you know that there is no way of crossing 101 in this area.
2:57- Find payphone and call person to let them know I'll be late. Am told "it's no problem." Tell them I'm in South San Francisco and that I'm going to look for a cab and should be there in about ten minutes.
3:00- Start looking for cab. There's none to be found
3:05- Find hotel and ask them to call me a cab. They tell me it'll be ten minute wait
3:20- Cab shows up.
3:25- Arrive for interview
3:45- Try not to look panicked when person whose interview me tells me show knows evil old boss. No, not the last one, but the one who ran the company with Mr. DJ and Rocker Girl and the Snoring Salesman. Think I do a good job.
4:15- Interview over, I go downstairs and wait for shuttle to take me to BART (shuttle doesn't start til 4). Think about how cool it would be to get the job. For about a minute. Then think about how I really need a drink.

Umm, is it a good thing when a crackhead is standing in the middle of 16th & Valencia and throwing slices of bread all over the street?

So yeah, haven't been posting in awhile. Taking a little break, as it were and should start posting again when things calm down a bit and the sanity has returned. I think, in a way, the ending of "Friends" has affected me way more than I thought. And now that there's rumors that Brad & Jen are having problems, forget about it.

Check in again next week.

this is our last goodbye

I hate to feel the love between us die

but it's over

just hear this and then I'll go

you gave me more to live for

more than you'll ever know
?????????

Yeah, I'm back. Miss me?

Got bitched out yesterday by a temp agency. I had this stupid group interview for a sort-of telemarketing/fund raiser thing that I stupidly agreed to go to and bailed on. Not only that, I showed up about ten minutes late. So while checking my messages from another job, I got this long, five minute bitch-out by the person who got me the interview.

Okay, I was late. That's lame. And I said I'd represent and I didn't. But I'm sick again (long, long weeked), the bus took forever, there was a really good "Charmed" on that morning, and, well, the whole thing was one of those things that the whole time I sat there I kept on thinking to myself "this is going to make one hell of a job entry."

See, it's some group interview thingy, which means that basically about twenty people were assembled in a room, all sent from various temp agencies in hopes of getting the five available positions. The whole thing started off with the people who were running it asking everyone to introduce themselves. Now, first of all, what the hell am I supposed to say? "Hi, I'm Hooray for Anything" and I'm here because I'm an unemployed loser who can't get a job?" Since the thing was for a non-profit, everyone else was saying things like "oh, I really like kids" or "I've spent a lot of time working for non-profits and am looking for more non-profit work." Which, of course, is all bullshit. It's a TEMP JOB. It's for four weeks at eleven bucks an hour. Nobody really wants to be there.

Then the women started asking questions, like "why would somebody want to do this?" or "what kind of resistance will you get when you call them?" For this, they asked for responses from the people there. And people responded. Like they cared. Yeah, I know it's a job interview (sort of) but once again, it's a TEMP JOB. Do the women who are going to make the decision think that the two or three people who answered every question really, really cares that much about answering the question? (ed.- maybe that was the point.)

After that, they went through the call script and told everyone they were going to do a one-on-one type test to see how we'd all do on the phone. Which is when I bailed. Look, I've done market research on the phone before. I can bring it on the phone. I also hated it. And I don't see myself as being the type of person whose going to be calling Larry Ellison and asking him for money for Jerry's Kids.

All of which is why I got the phone call. Okay, I deserved it in a way. And I should probably call up and apologize and come up with some B.S. excuse. But you know what? This particular Temp Agency has never called me. When I call them about a job listing, they don't call me back. They've even been snippy on the phone when I try and get some information out of them. And every temp agency, like every recruiter, gets all excited whenever they think they have something for you, then completely disappears on you when it's over. So, basically, if you're going upset by my behavior, well excuse me.

I just don't think I'm going to be calling them again for a job.

Why our country is doomed (well, besides "The Swan," Paris Hilton, and dinosaur parks geared towards Creationists), I give you this comment on an online chat:

"...I find most in the mainstream press appear to be more concerned with their own particular political agenda and simply report facts consistent with same. If it were not for Fox News Channel and talk radio, I would consider myself ignorant."

And as far as I can tell, he didn't mean that ironically.

Appropos of nothing, whatever happened to Kriss Kross?

Does the Mack Daddy still make them want to jump? And are they still wiggida wiggida wack?

I'm sure you've heard about this quote as it's pretty crazy. Then again, maybe you haven't because while it's been all around the whacky world of liberal blogs, MSFOXNN hasn't really talked about it. Much much too busy trying to get to the bottom of whether or not John Kerry threw ribbons or medals over that fence way back in 1971. And, of course, whether or not his injuries in the Vietnam war were macho enough. Oh wait, the Daily Show did cover it. Thank God for the Daily Show

So, anyways, here's the quote, courtesy of White House Flak, Karen Hughes on abortion:

"I think after September 11, the American people are valuing life more and realizing that we need policies to value the dignity and worth of every life. And I think those are the kind of policies that the American people can support, particularly at a time when we're facing an enemy, and really the fundamental difference between us and the terror network we fight is that we value every life."

Right, because if we don't let Religious Fundamentalists make our social policies, than the Islamic Fascists will have won.

In my reality, this becomes a big story. The White House is flummoxed and Karen Hughes embarrassed. Alan Colmes gets a backbone on this and shuts Hannity up. And every woman and youth gets a clue and realizes what's really going on and overwhelmingly votes to get rid of Smirkboy. Even if Kerry is a douchebag.

Oh yeah, and in this reality, Wolf Blitzer uses his fucking brain and puts the bitch-slap on Karen Hughes for saying that on his program. Which, of course, he didn't because he's lame.

Seriously, we have about eight more months of this to look forward to.

Got a Temp job for the next day or two answering phones at a Property Management company on Treasure Island. Answering phones is kind of a weird job in that it's extremely boring (more lots of web surfing) mixed with intermittent work. You're sitting there, surfing surfing surfing and then, blammo, the phone rings and it's Go! Go! Go!. Except the Go! Go! Go! Part usually lasts for about twenty seconds and then it's back to surfing, surfing, surfing.

It is kind of nice that it's on Treasure Island, though. Treasure Island has one of the most amazing views of San Francisco you could see, which means it's one of the best views in the world. This grizzled old, Bored Now San Fran denizen has long since lost his appreciation of just how beautiful this city can be. Or maybe it's just because all I see are crack heads and guys with trucker hats. There's also a nice ocean breeze in the air which makes me remember that, oh yeah, I do live by the Ocean. I also remember that I like living near the Ocean and that it's something to be happy about. One of the things that dragged me out here in the first place was because I was able to go to a school by the water and the ridiculousness of going to college in a place surrounded on three sides by the Pacific Ocean still makes me wonder how I was able to pull that one off. There is something refreshing to an Ocean Breeze that just puts a smile on your face.

Which reminds me- I need to somehow figure out how I can get my insurance company to spring for a three day trip to Mexico for me. They can give me whatever drug they want and nothing would do as much good for me as three days on the beach doing nothing but drinking Corona's and Margarita's. Do you think they'd go for it?

Yay, it's crazy temp place again!

Got another gig at the place I was working at a few weeks ago, the place that was kind of nice and kind of steady but was slightly crazy in that the supervisor was never actually around to tell me what to do. Went in this morning and- surprise, surprise- the supervisor wasn't there. Not only that, he hadn't told anyone I was coming in so no computer, no work, not even a clue as to what he wanted me to do. And so I waited to see if he would come in. I read the paper, I got something to drink, I thumb twiddled and after forty-five minutes or so called the Temp Agency. Luckily, the Supervisor had called them in the morning to let them he wouldn't be in and that I couldn't start today, which is great of him if it weren't for the fact that it took him about three days to let the temp agency no. Thus explaining the thumb-twiddling from me. And with that, I got to go home.

Now it's always kind of nice when you're not working. Except for when the not working equals not getting paid. Nor is it that great when you already schlep out of bed early to get to work or find out that you miss the best part of morning TV. In other words, great.

With the world going to a place beyond hell in a handbasket, it appears that our Senate has decided to spend an entire week discussing the benefits of marriage.

"Four committees are expected to hold hearings over the next two weeks, beginning Wednesday with a Health subcommittee's discussion on 'Healthy Marriage: What is it and why should we promote it?'"

No word on how many of those Senators were ever discovered diddling an intern. It also looks like everyone's favorite creepy bigot, Rick Santorum is involved. Quelle surprise.

Hey, has anyone found those WMD's yet?

Somewhere in me there's an essay to be written about how I think the problem isn't necessarily that there's not enough emphasis in marriage in our society, but too much, but I'll save that for another time (think about it- you hear so much about how you should get married that most people wind up getting married just because they're supposed to. Maybe the rate of divorce isn't because people aren't taking marriage seriously but because they wound up marrying the wrong person). I do, however, want to say this: If congress really thinks it's that important for people to get married, maybe they should do what Government does best and help us single people out.

Like, say, if you find yourself over 30 and still single, the Government will:

-Make joining internet dating sites a tax-write off
-Create a Government-run matchmaking service.
-Subsidizing costs incurred of being single and looking.

For example, it'll work kind of like Unemployment. Every month us single folks get a check for a couple hundred bucks that we will then use to help defray the costs of things like drinks, clothes, and money for dates. After all, being single is kind of expensive- drinking all the misery away gets kind of pricey. Oh, and another thing the money could help with is having to constantly buy gifts for baby birthday parties when you're only one person and everyone else at the party is bringing one present but on two people's salaries.

Damnit, I think I'm going start a campaign. Singles of the World, unite!

Checking my spam-mail folder, I wonder this: is there really a big market for people looking for "Bedwetting Women Online?"

Crikey, it's hot out there.

As of late April 2004, I think this Web site pretty much sums up the 2004 election better than anything:

John Kerry is a Douchebag But I'm Voting For Him Anyway

Forget that rant that I posted earlier about a friend bailing on me on going to Napa. I corralled him into going today. Sadly, I was a bit underwhelmed. It's a sad day when an entire day of drinking and smoking still makes me feel kind of blah.

Anyhow, here's one more observation for the weekend before I take off to not really posting much during the week (I'm back to the crazy temp job this week, which means data entry all day and sore shoulders all night).

-If at some point in your life you are a heroin junkie and you and your heroin junkie friend are shopping at Safeway, please don't wear short sleeve shorts. Even if it is in the '80's. Look, it's great that you're no longer on smack and you have a right to be proud of it, but the rest of us do not need to see the entire length of your arms covered with track marks.

Iyick.

If I wanted to see that, I'd rent "Requiem for a Dream." As dreary as that movie is, at least Jennifer Connelly has teeth.

It's Mumia's fiftieth birthday today. Happy Birthday big guy. And as expected, it being his birthday means that it's a veritable Mumiapalooza here in the Mission. We got your protests, we got your rallies, we got your marches, and we got your Mumia Abu Jamaal Film Festival. How exciting!

I actually walked past part of Rally #1 today on my way to Safeway. Now, first of all, let me just say that if you're middle aged, have big breasts, and have never worn a bra in your life, for God's sake, please, put something on that'll hold those puppies up. For God's sake, think of the children.

Anyways, the rally was what you expected- twenty or so freaks handing out flyers and listening to various speakers yabber away on a bullhorn. Unfortunately, do to my tight schedule of errand running, I was not able to check out the march, the next rally, and the Film Festival.

All of which raises a question- who is the biggest loser:

-Somebody who spends all day and all weekend attending rallies and marches for everyone's favorite "political prisoner."

or

-Somebody who spent all day drinking beer and watching the NFL draft

And what the hell, how about somebody who spent all day checking the "Real World/Road Rules Inferno" message boards to catch up on what they missed out on.

I think we all know the correct answer isn't C. If I'm going to be a loser, I'm going to be a loser in private.

No, wait, I take that back. I did manage to shut the fuck up somebody on Craig's List whose been posting anti-semitic rantings for the past couple of days. That smell you're smelling is the smell of me burning his ass online. What can I say, I'm good…..

Met up with some people at a local restaurant tonight and saw a guy wearing a 70's styled "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirt and a John Deer trucker hat (worn sideways, of course). All I could think of was, "dude, you are soooo ironic." Man, I wish I could be that cool.

Wish brings me to this awesome little blurb I read on Wonkette, the tres hip political/gossip site about the appearance of Bush/Cheney '04 trucker hats being sold on the Bush/Cheney Web site:

"But what happens when the people who are wearing it ironically run into the people who are wearing it earnestly? Does it tear a hole in the parody-sincerity conitnuum? Will Ashton Kutcher suddenly not have been born?

Please, think of the children."

Last night I get a hold of a friend who I haven't seen in awhile. We talked earlier in the week about maybe doing something and he told me to call him on Friday to make plans to do something. When I call him, he's half drunk but immediately asks me whether I wanted to go to Napa today for some wine tasting and then head from there to a party. He also mentioned that it'll probably be one of those things that you don't come back from that night and that we'll probably be crashing somewhere else due to all the varieties of partying that will be involved.

So, of course, I said "hell yeah, I'm in." I need an adventure, any kind of adventure, especially an adventure that involves getting out of the city for a day or two and an all day trip to Napa and places elsewhere is exactly what the doctor ordered. With visions of sun drenched drunken mayhem dancing before my eyes, I almost skip to the video store to pick up a movie, knowing that I should get some sleep for the day's festivities. I am, as they say, stoked (I didn't wind up seeing the movie, but you'll hear more about that later). Especially as I hate to admit to this, but I have lived in Northern California for God knows how long and I have yet to do the Napa wine tasting thing.

It's 9 o'clock in the morning, the time I'm supposed to call him to check in (have to get moving early for an entire day of wine-tasting and BBQ'ing) and get no answer. Leave a message. Wait around for another couple of hours, not doing much of anything, not even showering, because my guess is that any second, any minute, I'll be getting that phone call saying "saddle up."

No call.

I finally call him at 11, two hours after I left my message. My friend answers the phone with kind of a surprised tone to his voice, you know, like he was surprised that I've called him twice already. He asks me what's up and what I've been up to, this despite the fact we've talked twice this past week. Or that last night he asked me if I wanted to go to Napa with him and a bunch of friends. We talk a bit, go through the "what are you doing this weekend" routine, as if we hadn't already talked about it and after a couple of minutes I finally bring up the reason for my calling. Trying to sound a bit on the nice side yet obviously hiding my displeasure I ask about Napa. "Oh," he says, "I decided not to do it but I might go to this BBQ but it's only for a couple of hours this afternoon. What are you doing tonight? We should get together and hang?"

And like that, visions of sun kissed drunken mayhem vanished before my eyes. And like that, an entire weekend worth of plans are shot to hell.

Mother fucking d'oh.

The Michael Jackson "South Park" episode- Brilliant!

So yeah, color me one of those people who is totally gobsmacked by Smirkboy's rise in the polls after our countries past couple of week's. Jesus criminy folks, how could someone has been shown to have screwed up so many things still have high popularity ratings? Can't someone get blown in that office so people will be outraged? And all of this after his press conference last week. I guess there are some people out there who feel comforted in the fact that the president goes in front of the press and sounds like a kid trying to give an oral report on a book he never read, but I'm not one of them. I read the damn book.

Oh wait, I forgot. He wasn't inarticulate, he was "sincere" and "determined" and, umm "competent" (which is a great quality to look for in a President). Oh yeah, and his inability to sound like he even had an understanding of the English language is his being a "plain-talker." Which, I guess is appealing to the average voter out there. On the other hand, this is a country in which not only is Omorosa from "The Apprentice" now getting commercial deals, but she's being dropped from some of them because people are calling up to complain and are threatening a boycott. No WMD's, no biggie. Omorosa making commercials, "Battle Stations!" And speaking of reality shows, if all of the countries where characters on "Survivor," how long before America would get voted off the island?

Considering how well the President did after his press conference and how well I'm not doing in job interviews, I have decided to follow the President's example and do my interviews George Bush style. No more worrying about things like trying to answer the question. Or trying to come up with coherent sentences that have a beginning, a middle, and an end. And correct grammar? What-ever.

So, from now on, instead of trying to do a good job answering the questions, I will instead, just keep on saying these things:

-I am a freedom lover
-All the people who have either laid me off or let me go from a job are "evil doers"
-If anybody says something bad about my job performance, they are only appeasing the evil-doers
-To wonder why I seem to be unemployed a lot is to dishonor all the other chronically unemployed people out there

And most importantly,
-I want this job because God told me I did.

See, I figure if I just somehow say one or two of these talking points into every answer I give during an interview, I too can can be seen as "steady," "determined" and "competent." And I too can amble into a job, just like our President.

Question: back before the internet, what did one do when they had nothing to do at work? Read a book? File? Tiddlywinks?

How did people survive back then?

Today at the temp job I'd say I that in the seven hours I was work, I actually did something for about an hour and a half of it. No, not because I was slacking but because there was absolutely nothing to do. I was so bored I ran out of Web sites to read by 11. And yeah, I managed to squeek by through clicking on Slate every ten minutes or my e-mail. I even had to check out Craig's List Rants & Raves, the crack of Web surfing. And all I could think about was that no matter how bored I was, at least I could surf the Web.

I saw this on TV this morning:

Fox News had a story about the mess in the Middle East, the Israel/Palestinian mess not the Iraqi mess. The story was about how Hamas won't announce who their new leader is, a good idea considering that being the Hamas leader has turned into the Spinal Tap drummer of terrorists. The reporter of the story, a tall willowy young blonde who I'm sure was hired for her journalistic ability, announced that she was determined to discover who the new leader was. As she said that, the footage shown on TV was of her, doing the Ashleigh Banfield thing and striding around the area all decked out in a head-scarf. To fit in and show respect, of course.

Now, I found this really funny. Because you have to admire a tall, willowy blonde trying to be inconspicuous and walking around Gaza asking who the new leader of Hamas is. You know, like they'd tell her.

Man, I would have loved to have seen the footage of her asking. Striding up and seeing the first terrorist looking dude and asking them "excuse me, can you tell me who your new leader is?" Or maybe she acted all dumb and just simply said "take me to your leader." Maybe she found some gawky thirteen year old Palestinian kid and tried to sweet talk them, telling him he'd take her scarf off if he told her. Or maybe she just hung out in the marketplace trying to fit in and eavesdrop.

And if they did tell her, how long before that person would be blown up?

Part of my nasty, nasty little cold involves the stuffing of my ears. I am totally deaf. You know how when you're watching a movie or TV show and they want to be all arty and dramatic so they take out all the incidental sound and all you hear is maybe the background noise and a lot of silence? Like the Buffy episode "The Body?" That's how my past couple of days have been. Like one long, dramatic episode.

All day I'm straining to hear things at the Temp job, which is kind of fun considering that the job is basically hearing people give you instructions and then passing the instructions onto other people. I have to double-check everything I hear to make sure I hear I heard it right without sounding like an idiot. And I totally screwed up and was talking about someone at work behind they're back without noticing they were right behind my back.

Oops.

Because I have no idea how loud everything is, I'm worried about talking too loudly so I'm I find myself talking to quietly. Hardly anybody can hear what I'm saying and I can't tell. Or, maybe they can tell and I just can't hear them say "huh?" I also find myself grinning like an idiot when I think people are making a joke. I have no idea if it is a joke, but better safe than sorry. I also feel kind of bad for my brand-new neighbor because I'm doing the old lady thing and have my TV turned up way too loud at home. I have no idea how loud it is.

Speaking of talking behind somebody's back, my temp agency called my supervisor today to check up on me. Good thing I sit right next to him, less than about ten feet from his computer. I was there when they called. That I could hear. After a few seconds into the conversation, I had to leave. I'm pretty sure nothing bad was said or anything that I didn't want to hear, it's just a little on the awkward side to be hearing a conversation totally about you when you're right there.

Or maybe I'm just really paranoid these days.

Sorry, I got nothing. I'm sick as a dog. Whatever that means. Are dogs known as being really sick or is it a ball licking thing?

You know what my favorite part of being sick is? When you wake up in the morning and within the first couple of minutes of waking up, you do inventory to check how you feel. All the while saying a little prayer that finally, the damn bug is gone daddy gone.

Oh please, let it be gone tomorrow.

There's a little game going on out there in the Blogosphere in which one picks the nearest book, turns to page 23, looks for the fifth sentence and posts it. It's kind of cool because we bloggers are such a literate set. It's amazing how many people out there just happen to have something like 'The Great Gatsby" or "Gravity's Rainbow." handy.

With that in mind, here's my addition to the game:

"After the interception, Rutigliano put his arms around Sipe and said, "Brian, I love you."

The Story of the Cleveland Browns, by Richard Rambeck.

Here's an interesting game to play: Which recent news item really is the sign of the apocalypse?

-Nicole Richie Marrying Justin Guarini?

-The fact that Madonna won't perform on Friday night's because it's Shabbat and she's now Jewish?

-and from the same article....so is Britney? (funny, she doesn't look Jewish).

-The 27 year old woman on MTV's "I Want a Famous Face" (a show that definately proves we've entered height of Roman Empire decadence) who got a breast and face job in order to achieve fame and fortune as a Britney Spears impersonator?

-The "Nick and Jessica Variety Hour?"

-That the "Nick and Jessica Variety Hour" got good ratings

-That there is a "Nick and Jessica?"

We're doomed, people, we're doomed.

With a nod to Andrew Sullivan, Pretentionous Alert.

From a critical essay about "The Daily Show" (!) on the New Republic Web site:

"Laughter is the essence of individuality. Sobs sound alike, so do moans of pleasure and pain, so do terrified screams; but each person has his or her own laugh. A horror of individuation is why Stalin asked a group of Polish communists how Comrade Z was, and when they stared at the ground in silence, he burst into laughter because he and they knew that he had had Comrade Z killed a few days before; it is why the Uruguayan junta called the prison where it tortured and killed suspected leftists Libertad--those were instances of politics pursuing and catching laughter, and then having the Last--the eschatologically last--Laugh. Politics hates the naked unbridled ego that laughter sets free; it hates it with the intensity with which laughter heaps its furies on the naked unbridled ego that hides behind the highflown sentiments of politics."

Just a note to all you editors out there, if someone is writing a review on a show on Comedy Central and mentions Stalin, "Uruguayan Junta's" and "Libertad", it is pretentious. Way pretentious.

I bring you back to the earlier posting, the one about our Department of Justice hiring people to basically do nothing but surf porn all day. As interesting as the story is, it still doesn't get to the heart of the matter. To whit, how does one get the job and what do they do all do?

Who is hired to surf porn? It being John Ashcroft's baby, I'm guessing it's Born Again types. You wouldn’t want to hire somebody who gets off on it and as we all know, those who love Jay-sus never, ever, get off on porn. But would that make sense to have them doing the surfing? Wouldn't you want somebody who actually knows how to surf for it? I mean, if you're going to hire somebody to surf, say, Arabic newspapers to discern what's going on in the Arabic world, wouldn't you want somebody who knows there way around the Arabic World? What would happen if the task for the day was to surf for facial shots? Would a Born Again type even know what a facial shot is? And if so, does this mean that the DOJ is then hiring a bunch of people who are porn-surfing-addicts? And how does one put that one their resume?

And do they just go in, surf and see what comes up or is there assigned tasks for the week? Like one week it's "amateur anal" and the next week it's "big busty blondes?" And who makes the call? Ashcroft? Does each "agent" have a speciality? Like one is The Special Agent on Bestiality and another is the Special Agent for Lesbian Hard-Core? Who surfs the gay porn? Ashcroft? Do they get corporate cards so they can log into every porn site to actually check the porn? And do they have POP-Up protectors to make sure they don't spend all their time clicking off POP-Up ads? How do they know the agent's not actually surfing for porn? Most companies have Porn firewalls to keep their employees from checking out porn, but if your job is to check out porn there's no Porn firewalls so how would they know that the Bestiality Guy wants to check out Hot Coed's?

Can anyone fill me in on this?

Gotta give my props out to Janet Jackson for doing a devastating impression of everyone's favorite closeted lesbian National Security Advisor, the whiter than Colin Powell, Condi Rice last night on SNL. You know you're in trouble as a public figure when Janet Jackson totally nails you in a skit. Seriously, it was really good. And it's amazing how just one skit on SNL and one rant on the "Daily Show" about her testimony summed up the whole thing better than hours and hours of yelling pundit-heads on TV did.

Anyways, in a story about the infamous PDB (yeah, you know me), that Bush got while in the midst of his thirty-day vacation, there comes this line: "The officials would not describe Bush's reaction to the memo -- calling it confidential --.

Umm, now why would the President's reaction be considered "condidential?" Is it such a breach of National Security if they said he was "alarmed"? Is it really too much of an attack on Executive Privilege to know that the President's reaction was that of "hmmmm, interesting?" Seriously. All of which makes you wonder that, like most of Smirkboy's stonewalling, that his reaction really was that of "that's great, but how did the Rangers do today?" Or "Who is Al Queda, again? Isn't he that oilman that gave me a couple thousand dollars in campaign contributions?" Or, hell, even, "Dick, can you explain this to me?"

And while I do think it's unfair to blame the Bushies for 9/11 and that even if Bush wasn't napping through the entire month of August, I don't think the thing could have been stopped, I do have to say I'm thoroughly enjoying the hullaballoo. As I've said before, anything that wipes the smirk off his face is okay by me.

I went to the California Government building today to pick up my tax forms and as I walked in, I saw a cool head shot of Arnold Schwarzaneggar. I realized that it wasn't a head shot but the shot announcing him as the Governor of the State. And then it hit me- Arnold Schwarzaneggar is our governor.

It's one thing to see him on TV playing our Governor because it's like he's playing a role and that it's not reality, but to see him there in the Government Office as our Governor brought it all to reality.

Here's the even crazier thing about it- so far he hasn't done that bad of a job. Actually, he's probably done a much better job than Davis would have done. Go figure.

I think I found the perfect job:

"Administration wages war on pornography-Obscenity: For the first time in 10 years, the U.S. government is spending millions to file charges across the country.
Lam Nguyen's job is to sit for hours in a chilly, quiet room devoid of any color but gray and look at pornography. This job, which Nguyen does earnestly from 9 to 5, surrounded by a half-dozen other "computer forensic specialists" like him, has become the focal point of the Justice Department's operation to rid the world of porn."

I'd hate to be the one who has to clean the office after work.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and since these are desperate times, I'm going to utilize the most desperate measure there is- the Costanza Ploy. Basically, the idea that to change one's luck, one needs to do the exact opposite of what they would normally do.

Here's how it will apply for my job search

-I will no longer dress up for interviews. I'm actually wearing nice suits to interviews now (thanks mom). No longer. I'm picturing something in jeans and t-shirts. Shaving will depend on my mood.

-I will no longer show up early for interviews. Instead, I will show up ten minutes late for every interview I go on. It shouldn't really matter anyways as most people are ten minutes late to interview me.

-I will tell the complete honesty in everything. If there's something I haven't done, instead of spinning it in such a way that it sounds like I've done it, I'll just say "nope, never done it." If they bring up some task that either doesn't sound particularly fun or something that I know I don't like to do, I will just say "nope, doesn't interest me at all. I hate accounting." Or something like "yeah, I'm not very good at accounting. In fact, I hate doing it so much I usually wait until the end of the month to do it and once a printer refused to print out anything for the company because I was so late on the PO's." And if they ask what kind of boss I don't like, I will tell them "psycho, manic women who criticize everything I did up to how I shuffled papers and eavesdrop on my conversations."

-Thank you notes. Eh, screw 'em. They haven't worked yet and I somehow suspect a few times the job went to somebody who didn't send one out.

-And finally and most importantly, I will act like I don't care. I will show no enthusiasm, will not say how exciting something sounds. Will not even look like I really want to be there. And I will not constantly call HR people about jobs that I've applied for and be persistent about it. Just think about it, would Steve McQueen act like he was excited about a job? Would he tell the interviewer that "wow, that sounds really great?" Would he call up every couple of days to check in? No, he wouldn't. And what's good for Steve McQueen is good for me. Because Steve McQueen is the Man.

I should be getting a job soon.

Hey, so according to some online quiz, if I were a New York Times columnist, I'd be Maureen Dowd:


You are Maureen Dowd! You like to give people silly
nicknames and write in really short, non
sequitur paragraphs. You're the most playful of
the columnists and a rock-ribbed liberal, but
are often accused of being too flamboyant and
frivolous. You tend to focus on style over
substance, personality over politics. But your
heart is in the right place. Plus, you are a
total fox.



Woo-hoo.

Now, if only I could find an online quiz that determines what member of the McLaughlin Group I'd be.

(and that's a joke that'll be funny to maybe one of you out there. Then again, only one of you is actually reading this these days, so I hope you get a kick out of it).

The office where I'm working is a small office above a bar somewhere in the financial district. Even though it's in a heavily trafficked area the door into the office building is unlocked. There's a little coffee nook as part of the building and my guess is that the door is unlocked because they figure that with someone in the coffee nook all day, the building's a lot safer than other buildings (because, of course, if somebody was going to rob the place during the day, they'd be all dressed up in robber outfits and thus easily spotted by the coffee worker). To get in, all you have to do is basically press a button by the side of the coffee nook and the door swings wide open.

Today I sneak out around 5:15 to go across the street to make a phone call (by the way, dear HR people- don't get snippy if somebody calls about a job already been filled. It's not my fault that you haven't taken down the posting in the two and a half weeks that the job's been filled). I cross the street and press the button and nothing. No door opening, nothing.

So I press the button a few more times, hoping that it'll finally open sesame. And yeah, like you'd do anything differently. Still nothing. Luckily, there's about four buttons on the side of the door, buzzers which I'm guessing buzzes the various receptionists in the building to let you in. I start buzzing those buzzers, feeling a bit like all those lame-asses who buzz my apartment because they either left their keys at home or are on a bootie call. Still nothing.

I keep on trying, buzzing each buzzer for a few quick jabs and then switching it up by going the longer buzz route. I try the buzzer that I'm pretty sure is to the office I'm working at and hold that for a lone time. Nothing. I try all the other offices. Nothing.

I am a Temp. I am a Temp with a higher level of responsibility than most Temps. I am a Temp who is working in an office they like at a job that they like and in a job that carries with it an outside chance of turning into a permanent gig and so wants to make a good impression. I am also a Temp who has been locked out of their office for over ten minutes and now has to call somebody to let them in.

I give up and trudge back across the street to head to the pay phone, swearing the whole time that as soon as I get a job, I'm finally joining the rest of the world and get a cell phone. As I walk across the street, I realize I don't have the company's phone number on me. I could call the Temp Agency, but it's not exactly something I want to admit to the Temp Agency that can make decisions about whether or not they want to send me on more assignments. I decide to call 411 when I get to the phone, but am relieved to find that the phone book is actually still by the payphone.

I find the number and dial. No answer. The receptionist has, of course, gone home. But wait. There's an office directory on the voice-mail system so if I can just punch in somebody's last name, I could reach somebody. Which would be great except I've only been there three days and don't know anybody's last name.

With no other option I realize I have to call the Temp Agency. Trying to summon up whatever shred of dignity I feel that I have left (ie, none), I tell them I'm locked out and can't reach anyone. The lady at the Temp Agency acts like it's not one of the craziest phone calls she's ever gotten and tells me to hold on. A couple of minutes later she comes back and tells me she reached somebody and that my supervisor is "laughing his head off."

Fifteen minutes after trying to get back into the office, the supervisor comes down and gets me, filling me in on all the hilarity that ensued after I disappeared. Turns out the receptionist is the one who locks the door when she leaves and she had to leave early today because she was preparing for a Seder (happy Pesach, everyone). Turns out too that they heard the buzzer ring but that nobody responds to the buzzer because after five, the entranceway is full of smokers from the bar who constantly buzz the buzzer by accident. Turns out too that they figured out it was me when the buzzer buzzed for like the fifth time and they realized that I had been gone for awhile. Naturally, the exact moment I went into the Embarcadero to make the call was the exact moment somebody came down to get me. And it turns out that they ran to get my initial phone call but just missed me before voice-mail kicked in.

Just my luck.

Oh, to add to the fun, I was so flummoxed by my misadventures that I accidentally got onto the wrong BART train and wound up in Oakland.

And sometimes I wonder why I drink so much….

One of the new guys who moved into my apartment complex subscribes to ESPN the Magazine. You know how I know? Because it's been sitting in the front hallway for the past six days, unclaimed, unchained, and unloved. It's the baseball issue too.

So here's the question- what's the correct amount of time to wait on an unclaimed magazine before swiping it? Two days? Three days? Four?

Maybe I should just swipe it for the night and return it the next day. He'll be none the wiser. I just gotta make sure I don't use it for bathroom material.

I've been reading that the White House is swearing that they'll find a way of "punishing" those responsible for the horrific mob attack in Fallaju the other day. I'm actually kind of curious as to what they plan to do as the whole thing brings up one of the problems we are facing in our Brave New World. The problem is basically this- it's really hard to be an Empire these days. After all, you can't really do what Empires used to be able to do.

In the good old days, if an Empire ran into something like what happened in Falluja, they'd know what to do. They'd just lay siege to the city, smash it into bits, and then do something horrible to all of the citizens of the city. Not the perpetrators, not the leaders, everyone. They'd do something really ingenious, like killing all the males, or chopping off everyone's hands, or just burning everything down, selling the townsfolk's into slavery and then planting salt into the ground to make sure nobody could live there for years and years and years. The idea was to set an example to everyone so that they'd no not to mess with the Empire.

This was your basic standard operating procedure for most of your major Empires- your Huns and your Mayans and your Spaniards. And most importantly, it was what the Romans did, and if you're going to be an Empire, you might as well learn from the best when it comes to being an Empire. The Romans basically wrote the book on it. They were ripe miserable bastards when they had to be (crucifixion, anyone?) but they were one hell of an Empire. They know how to take care of business.

But you can't do that today. No sirree Bob. We got morals these days, and scruples. Not to mention 24 hour news channels that would broadcast it to the entire world. Now, I'm sure that somewhere in the bowels of the White House some Neo-Cons are arguing to screw it with that whole morality thing, with Dick Cheney leading the way. And I'm sure that if they did it, all the blabbering idiots on FOX and on the radio would then go into apoplectic fury defending the White House, accusing those people who point out that cutting the ears of all the townsfolks as immoral as terrorist appeasars or, even worse, French sympathizers. But that kind of thing just can't happen today. And while we are much better off for it, it does make being an Empire a tad more difficult than it was in the Good Ole Days.

Temp job tomorrow, new one. The cool thing is that it's actually in doing what I do and with an Ad Agency. The bad thing is that the money's not so great- the exact same amount of money I made at the previous data-entry temp job.

The thing about it is that it's hard to do what I do, project management, and not get all stressed about it. You have to care. For $15 an hour, I don't want to care. For that money, I want the non-thinking, non-crazed, non-difficult Temp Job.

I want the Haiku Tunnel.

I guess a friend hooked up with someone last week, even got himself into a relationship. I don't really know for sure because he hasn't really come out and said it. Instead, he does what a lot of guys do in a situation like this- drop hint after hint after hint but never actually say it. For some reason, guys can never come out and just say "I got me some."

It goes like this: guy has date one night and can't stop talking about it beforehand. Guy calls you up the next day and instead of saying how well the date went, they'll either drop big hints like "oh, man, I'm really tired because I didn't get any sleep last night" or "man, I hate sleeping in somebody else's bed for the first time." Or they'll just drop total non-sequitors into the conversation, something that has nothing to do with anything. Things like: "oh, you're watching the Alabama basketball game, Michelle once drove through the south" or "maybe you should go to that party with me, even though I can't pick you up or drive you home because I'll be with Michelle."

Because I'm me, I never take the bait. Instead, I play dumb and don't say anything. If they're going to play games with me, I'll play games with them. Besides, it's kind of fun to play along, listening to how desperate they get for you to ask them what happened. At a certain point, they'll actually start saying nothing related to the conversation, just anything to make me ask what happened the night before and why the said what they did.

I was supposed to hear back about a job today but didn't hear anything. I did, however, notice that the job got reposted late this afternoon. I have a feeling that's not a good sign. Actually, I'm relatively not that upset because out of the three jobs I've interviewed for over the past week, it was definately the least interesting- rinky dink company in a rinky dink office sitting in a rinky dink strip mall outside rinky dink Oakland. But yeah, it's kind of a bummer because I need a job, obviously. And while I didn't really want the job, it would have been nicer if I were to get and turn it down as opposed to not getting it.

Oh, and it would have been nicer to know that I didn't get the job because the guy had to cut the interview short because he had to pick his kid up from school.

Today was my last day at the Temp Job. Or, at least I think it was. I'm not exactly sure. I finished all of my assigned tasks but my supervisor was, of course, not there, so I'm not really sure what's up. I even called his cell phone to find out what the deal was, but I never heard back from him.

Although I kind of liked it there, I was getting the feeling that I was there a little to long. I was such a recognized person there that this morning I got cornered by an employee who wanted to share her amazement at the growing up of another employee's children. This despite the fact I don't know said employee. Or cared.

The crazy thing about today was that I knew around 11 or so that I was going to finish up my project fairly early, like around lunch time. This, of course, created a dilemna in that the quicker I finished up, the earlier I was able to go home and considering I was already there, I didn't really want to go home early. I'se need the money. Plus, with the supervisor not there, I couldn't get my time sheet signed. So naturally, I took a longer lunch than normal and did a little bit more Web surfing than I usually do (actually, when I was there, I just quickly checked my e-mail and maybe occasionally scanned a news site- I never really played that much online. I swear). Other than a few items to be entered, I was pretty much done around 2 and went off to the Temp Agency to ask what I should do. Their suggestion was to finish everything up, give my supervisor a call, and then hang out to the end of the day. Which meant, basically, that my Temp Agency gave me permission to spend the rest of the afternoon surfing the Web. Which I did.

Hey, they said I could.

Oh, and a funny thing that happened was that at some point that afternoon, I decided I needed to use the time and printer to print out my roster for my upcoming Fantasy Baseball Draft. I selected the printer I thought was closest to me only to realize that the printer I selected was actually that of the Manager. After printing it out, I walked by his office and noticed that yes, lying in the printer behind him was my roster.

Oops.

Found somewhere online....

The Bush Leadership Quiz

A BUZZFLASH READER CONTRIBUTION
by Patrick Clark

DO YOU HAVE THE BUSH STUFF?

If President Bush's re-election staff has its way, this election will revolve around only one question: Can anyone hope to match the heroic 9-11 style leadership of George W. Bush?

So, does John Kerry have what it takes to protect the American people? What about you? Are you tough enough to ride with the Crawford Gang? Answer the seven questions below to find out if you are made of the same stuff as George W. Bush.

1. Pretend you're the elected President of the United States.
2. Imagine that you receive multiple warnings from long-time allies concerning a coming terrorist attack which may use hijacked airliners to attack American symbols of commerce. Do you:
a) Take a month-long vacation.
b) Keep your staff off commercial airlines.
c) Finally deal with that pesky cedar brush on your new ranch.
d) a, b, & c.
e) Contact the FBI and CIA and order them to share resources to co-ordinate a national airport security clampdown while expediting a search for known terrorists who have entered the country.

3. On August 6th, just days into your vacation, your National Security Advisor gives you a briefing entitled "Bin Laden Determined to Strike in US." Do you:
a) Take the rest of the day off.
b) Go fishing on your man-made lake.
c) Take the longest Presidential vacation in thirty-two years.
d) a, b, & c.
e) Act like the elected President of the United States and return to Washington to ensure the safety of the nation.

4. Having successfully ignored countless warnings, you return from vacation. On your way to a slow-pitch photo op, you learn that an airliner has crashed into one of Twin Towers. Do you:
a) Continue to your very important photo-op at a Florida elementary school.
b) Later claim you watched the first crash on television even though that film was not shown until that evening.
c) Fail to make any connection between the crash and the near-constant terrorist warnings of the past month.
d) a, b, & c.
e) Act like the elected President of the United States by dropping the children's book and hurrying to Air Force One to direct the country's defense.

5. Though you've already shrugged off anything resembling competence, when an aide whispers in your ear that a second plane has crashed into the second tower, do you:
a) Read a book about goats to second graders for seventeen minutes while thousands burn to death.
b) Delay an order for fighters to defend the White House and the Pentagon.
c) Later claim to be in bed by ten that night, sleeping soundly while the rest of the nation sat up, dumb-struck, horrified by the human loss.
d) a, b, & c.
e) Upon hearing of the first airliner strike, immediately order fighters up to defend the second Tower and the Pentagon and, later, have the common decency not to sleep a wink.

6. In the days following the disaster, you learn that the attack was planned by a wealthy Saudi named Bin Laden and that fifteen of the nineteen hijackers were also Saudis. Do you:
a) Have a friendly photo op with a Saudi business friend of your father even before you bother posing on the burning rubble of lower Manhattan.
b) Allow a private jet to collect a hundred wealthy Saudis, including fourteen Bin Laden relatives, and fly them out of the country over the protests of the FBI.
c) Round up hundreds of innocent immigrants and imprison them without trial in order to appear to be engaged.
d) a, b, & c.
e) Throw your family's substantial business interests to the side in order to detain and question wealthy Saudis and so discover that some financed terrorists in the months before the attack.

7. It was bound to happen. Bi-partisan traitors in Congress have the audacity to push for an Independent Commission to investigate the massive intelligence and security failures that led to 9-11. Do you:
a) Grant the Commission a mere fifteen million dollars -- less than one fourth the amount spent to investigate the last President's adultery.
b) Stipulate that any testimony you give be off-the-record.
c) Announce that pressing Presidential-type duties leave you with less than an hour to spend before the Commission -- despite the fact that in the last year you've played over one hundred and forty hours of golf.
d) All of the above.
e) Save your country time and money by proceeding directly to a six-by-six wire suite in Guantanamo.

ANSWERS.

Welcome to the soft prejudice of dumbed-down expectations! Question one is a freebie -- just like Florida! Give yourself a bunch of points! Questions two through seven demand a little more cunning. If you answered a, b, or c, you were close.

If you answered d to all of them, congratulations! You've flunked, but those were the President's choices! You're just as much a leader as the steely-eyed rocket man himself! And you did it without oil money! FYI, if you chose e for any of the answers, you are a French toast-eating, terrorist-loving traitor.

PS- if you want to get some serious left-wing conspiracy stuff, click on the links. I'm not saying it's true, but it's definately something to make you go "huh." That and run off to volunteer for John Kerry.

Okay sports fans- grab the kiddies, get some popcorn and gather round the computer as it's Crazy Interview Time:

This is about an interview I had on Tuesday. I actually wrote up the whole story but as it's four pages I figured that nobody would read the whole thing. Hell, if I were you, I wouldn't read the whole thing. Instead, I'm just going to go to the highlights:

First, some background:

This is for a database admin posting that I sent my resume in for in hopes I'd get something to tide me over until I get a real job. The company is a personnel agency that basically hires scab nurses to replace striking nurses.

-Get handed application to fill out. Notice that they ask on it what Elementary School I went to. Begin to think maybe this job is a little below my skill level. What does that even matter? Am I not going to get a job because I went to a public school? How would they even know? I went to Elementary School in Wayne Pa, fer crissakes. Is there a US News and World Report listing for Elementary Schools? And I love how they always ask what courses you took. While this might be appropriate for college, what does it matter for High School? And if High School doesn't matter, how would Elementary School? What should I even put there? Reading, 'riting and 'rithmetic''?

-Interview begins. Overly caffienated and overly stressed person who is interviewing me asks me to tell me about myself. A couple of minutes into it, she tells me that she has a big conference call and that she has to stop the interview there. She also tells me that I have really great skills on my resume and that she's sure I'd be fine on the job.

-She then asks me to print out a report. I think it's a test. Turns out that, no, she really wants the report. Not only that, they don't know how to generate the report but am hoping I can figure out how. Spend about ten minutes with all the kids in the office trying to figure out how to do it and how to figure out a way of getting the information without running a report. About five minutes into it realize "hey, wait a minute" and that I probably shouldn't be doing all of this for them. Homey shouldn't be playing this.

-Next person I interview with tells me that everyone who starts at the company has to start off in the Call Center. It's how everyone learns all the ins and outs of the company. She then hands me the Call Center script and asks me to read it for her. Spend all my energy trying not to give her that "are you kidding me?" scowl that was lurking beneath my blank expression. Begin to figure out just what my level of desperation is and whether it means I should read the script.

-Read the script, not doing as well as I could (having done Telemarketing once, I know how to do Call Center. I did not give them 110% percent as they say). Am then given ten-minute explanation of various types of nursing licenses. I so don't care.

-Am then told that she has a very important meeting, that the interview was over, and that I have a great background and that I'd be great in this position, blah, blah, blah.

As I leave, I realize that I don't really want the job. In fact, more like I really don't want the job. Not one bit.

So naturally, I get it. Well, kind of. I got a job in the Call Center. So I call to find out what the deal is and what about the database job and haven't heard back from them

Now I know I need a job and I know having steady income, but that job so reeks of "I have a bad feeling about this."

Okay, I was totally wrong about it being a fun day. Man, this afternoon dragged.

Anyways, back at the Temp Job. I am even more convinced that I could just sneak in and work there without anybody knowing it because when I walked in and talked to the receptionist, he thought I've been working there all week. And, once again, other than a nod of acknowledgement, my supervisor never had time to check in with me. People are also saying hi to me in the hallways.

The place was a lot more happening than last week, though. It looks like they've hired a whole bunch of sales people in the past couple of days. One of the sales people, a kind of hot mid-30's saleswoman who had been there when I started slinked on over to my cubicle and introduced herself, probably thinking I was another new sales stud she could chat up. Once she realized I was only a mere down-on-his luck data entry temp, she couldn't get out of the area fast enough.

Bi-yatch.

By the way, a note to all you single gals out there- if you want to try and get guys in the office to flirt with you and possibly meet the man of your dreams, don't clutter your cubicle with pictures of your nieces, nephews and cats. It kind of, how shall I put it, reeks of serious desperation.

Hmmm, maybe I should have made more of an effort to flirt….

Going back to crazy temp job this morning. The supervisor called me yesterday around 8:30 in the morning to let me know I should come in. So I'm going on.

I'm actually kind of happy about it. It's pretty kick-back, easy, and stress-free. I get to listen to music all day, have unlimited use of the coffee maker, and can sneak onto the internet whenever I want. Plus, I'm a little on the hung-over side of things and nothing says hangover recovery like 8 hours of data entry. Just power-up on caffeine, turn on the computer, put in the Black Sabbath and it's go time.

The only thing I have to worry about is trying to stretch the little work that I do have into a full three days of work.

PS- John Kerry, the real John Kerry, has yet to accept my invitation to be my Friendster Friend. I know it's the real John Kerry only because it's just bland, humour-less, and inoffensive enough to only be written by John Kerry (like he'll mention something like he likes nude photography or listens to Xzbit. Please. Just imagine the uproar if he said his favorite song was "Bitch Better Have My Money") . Plus, it said so on Salon. Dude owns up to liking both "Animal House," "the Blues Brothers," and "Old School" though, so he's got that going for him. Still, if he doesn't want to be my Friendster Friend, I think I'm going to vote for Nader. I know Ralph would be my Friendster Friend.

Slate's been having some interesting stories about the "Girls Gone Wild" phenomenon. I don't know what's more despressing, that tons of women would want to be on "Girls Gone Wild" or that they'll do it for a trucker hat.

One funny thing about reading personal ads (hey, what else am I going to do all day?) is that you notice a tendency for a lot of people to talk about how happy they are in the ad. Now first of all, as a general rule, people who constantly tell you how happy they are usually aren't. It's the same thing about when people tell you how cool they are. And second of all, what else are they going to say? "I'm manic-depressant?" "When not at work, I like to sit at home in the dark, light candles, drink an entire bottle of wine and read Sylvia Plath poems?" "I haven't tried to cut myself since my doctor put me on lithium?" Or the perennial favorite, "I swear, I only have about ten cats because I really, really like cats?"

I know I'm supposed to go back to the Temp Job to finish it up, I'm just not sure when. It's all kind of up in the air right now. Since my supervisor was too busy on Friday to talk it over, we just decided I'll call him to check in. The problem is that I couldn't go in today because I had interviews all day and I can't go in tomorrow because, well, see above, so I'm trying to call him to see when he wants to come in again. Naturally, he hasn't returned my calls. So I have no idea what the hell's going on.

Maybe I should just show up on Wednesday and see if anybody notices?

Oh yeah, one of my interviews tomorrow is for a data entry type job. The crazy part is that on the job posting it mentions that a lot of travel is going to be involved. Now what kind of $15 an hour data entry job involves a lot of travelling? Is that a good thing?

Now normally, the last thing I'd want to see is one of those serial-killer thriller movies. I think I'd rather see a romantic comedy starring Sandra Bullock, Meg Ryan, Hugh Grant, and Hillary Duff than see one of those movies. Which means that there is basically no way in hell I'm going to see that new Angelina Jolie thriller.

And then, while reading a review, I read this:

That's all before Jolie's shift into crime-fighting sexpot. Agent Scott starts running down halls, jacket open and breasts jiggling. Her previously pinned hair falls into a Renaissance mane as her luxury hotel room (the FBI apparently has generous per diems) becomes a boudoir complete with gauzy fabrics and mood lighting. She succumbs with great enthusiasm to a guy she barely knows in a laughable display of vertical eroticism. Jolie's toplessness goes beyond gratuitous to regrettable for an actress of her stature. ,

And I'm thinking, hmmm, maybe that's a rental.

It's Friday at my Temp job and once again, my supervisor isn't in. As I go take a peek at his office, I see that the lights are off and the door is locked. I ask the Office Manager/Receptionist if the guy is coming in or not and he doesn't know. Not only that, he doesn't think he is just because he's a big sales guy and is usually on the road.

Great.

I don't like the look of this. Don't like the look at all. Nuh-uh. When you throw in a Supervisor whose too busy and crazed to remember that you're there and a Temp Agency run by boneheads (when I interviewed there, the computer broke down in the middle of the test and when I went to go let them know, I saw the guy whose in charge with his feet up on his desk, fully reclined, staring out the window with his hands clasped behind his back) it makes me think Capital T trouble. In other words, I got a bad feeling about this and lately I've been realizing that whenever I got a bad feeling about anything, it usually happens.

It also occurred to me that I'm entering a "Seinfeld" moment. To whit, what would happen if I kept on showing up at a Temp job and between the craziness of the office and the semi-secluded nature of my cubicle, nobody notices that I'm there. Could I keep on coming back? Could I drag it out for a couple of months? If I keep showing up and nobody says anything would it become so normal that I'd be considered part of the company? Am I just one box of doughnuts in a meeting away from making the vaunted leap from temp to perm?

Hmmmm….

The crazy thing is that I've been in that situation before (yeah, I know, quelle surprise). Years ago, during Layoff #1, I was trying to make it as a Freelance Graphic Artist. I went to one Design Agency, a place that could only be described as the Worst Design Agency in the city (seriously, there were coffee stains on the coffee stains). The interview went well enough that the lady who ran it, a frumpy middle-aged woman who I'm pretty sure got the thing in a divorce settlement, told me to come back the next day for a "tryout." So I go in the next day, get a buttload of work, do a good job, and am told to come back the next day. I go back the next day, have more work thrown at me, and the next day after that.

Now since I didn't hear anything, I just went into work assuming I had work and that I was working there. And while nobody said I got the job, nobody told me that I didn't. Of course, it would have helped if the owner of the company were actually in the office to tell me what the deal was. She was hardly ever in the office as she was constantly on sales calls trying to drum up business, sales calls that usually consisted of buying clothes at Nordstrom.

A few weeks into the job, with me working pretty much 40 hour weeks, work slowed down and my coworker, a nice Born Again who was new to the city and whose previous job mainly consisted of air-brushing out cleavage for a Christian Music Label, told me it wasn't worth me coming in and to go home. The next day I called up to see if I should come in or not and was told by the owner that it wasn't going to work out and that she wasn't happy with my work. A fair enough assessment perhaps, but one that would have been nice to hear maybe a couple of days into it instead of, oh, a couple of weeks into it. A couple of weeks which were coincidentally busier than usual work-wise.

Naturally, she refused to pay me over a time-sheet issue. Bitch.

Oh wait, where was I. Oh yes.

Okay, so there I am at the Temp job, not knowing what to do and go take a walk to the Temp agency (whose going to know I'm gone?). They tell me to hold tight and that they'll call my supervisor. Back at the office, while I'm typing away the Office Manager hands me a cell phone, tells me it's my supervisor and that it's for me. My supervisor gives me some instructions, making it sound the whole time like he meant to take care of me, and told me he'll be in later. Which he was. Except he was also conducting interviews all day. Here I am trying to update him on the stack of work that he had me do a stack of work that I couldn't complete because I needed to hear back from him, yet unable to hear back from him.

At the end of the day I waltzed into his office while in the middle of an interview to give him my time sheet. As I suspected, it's not clear whether or not I'm going in there next week. I think I am, but I'm not sure. I also have a couple of interviews early next week so it's not like I can go in anyways, but I don't really know for sure.

Maybe I'll just show up and type away and see what happens?

You know, it's getting to the point where whenever I see a woman walking around the neighborhood and notice that she's got a tattoo on her lower back, my immediate reaction is, "of course."

Here's a good one….

Show up for the Temp Job today and find out from the receptionist that the entire office will be leaving around 10 for an all-day company bonding thing at the Race Track. He was even a little surprised that I came in.

So I went to go see my supervisor to check in with him. He's not there. While I do have things to do, most of them are of the make-work variety- not really anything all that important. After working for an hour, I sat there and watched the entire office take off, all except the Temp brought in for the day to man the phones. I am alone.

Uhh, so now what?

Should I stick around, completely unsupervised? Should I go home? If I stay and work, will I get shafted because there's nobody there? Was I not supposed to come in?

I stayed. Called the Temp Agency, got advice from them and typed in about 500 names into a database. All alone in a big huge office.

I apologize for not having too much to post. I'm tired, it's hot in here (to all you East Coast readers, it is indeed in the 80's here and while it's fabulous, it would be nice to get a few breezes going at night so I can sleep better), and doing data entry all day is killing me.

I do appreciate the temp job. I have nothing really bad to say about it. The money's reasonably good, the place is pretty kickback, Live 105 is listenable again (that Yeah Yeah Yeahs song "Maps" rocks. Hard) my supervisor is a nice guy, and, most importantly, I figured out how to get Internet access so I can check e-mail all day. But it's still kind of killing me. First of all, if anyone asks, a laptop is not the easiest computer to do data entry with. It actually kind of sucks. It's way too small and has no 10-key section. And it would help if there were any desire to be ergonomic. This maybe because I just don't know any better, but my guess is that while laptops are way cool, they're not exactly ergonomically sound. There's no lift, no height to them.

There are actually two main components to my job. The first is to create this huge database and do commission reconciliation. It's actually kind of fun. Not only do I get ownership of the database ("hey, let's change the bar from a blue fill color to an orange!") but it actually involves some thinking. As I've done some accounting before, I'm also fairly convinced that accounting is pretty frickin' easy. Why one has to spend years studying it when Excel spreadsheets do it all for you I'll never know. It is kind of strange, however, that the temp is explaining to the Sales Director how to read the sales reports and how to do the reconciliation.

But the problem with that task is that my supervisor is way too busy to give me direction. He's either on the phone or in meetings. So to make sure I have work to do, he's given me a whole bunch of make-work type things to do. The make-work consists of taking old, 20-30 page long spread sheets and re-enter them into the computer because the original files had been lost. I'm pretty sure those tasks weren't why I was hired, but the guy figured that he needed somebody to do them and since I was there, I'm doing them now. The thing is that he's given me so many spreadsheets to do that I could conceivably be there for months, just typing away. Which is all well and good and I'd be okay with it happening (it is a nice play to temp), but, well, see above about lap tops and data entry.

I was going to post something about the Republicans constant refusal to extend jobless benefits (Tom "I'm evil" DeLay calls the attempt to extend benefits a "clever political stunt"- hey Tom, bite me), but then I stumble upon this:

"Tennessee county, site of `Monkey Trial,' wants to charge gays with crimes against nature"


"...Commissioner J.C. Fugate, who introduced the measure, also asked the county attorney to find a way to enact an ordinance banning homosexuals from living in the county.

"We need to keep them out of here," Fugate said.

To quote Bill Maher (I'm too tired to rant on my own):

...if Southerners don't want to have an inferiority complex, I say, "Stop doing things that make reasonable people think you're inferior!"

Like, getting rid of slavery was a good start. But don't quit there: Stop being the place that's always challenging the theory of evolution. What's next, gravity? Is that just a plot by the Jews up North to get people to drop spare change?

God damn, our country is a mess these days. If we were a celebrity, we'd be Courtney Love. If we were a basketball team, we'd be the Lakers. If we were a married couple, we'd be Whitney and Bobby Brown.

Oh my God, the Chronicle dumped "Family Circus" today, replacing it with the much hipper "Dennis the Menace." Goodbye Billy, goodbye Jeffy, goodbye P.J. Oh, what shall I read now for my for my cutting-edge comic satire? Marmaduke?

The sad thing is that I'll never see what I so desperately want to see out of that cartoon- the spin-off comic where the kids from "The Boondocks" show up. Like "the Jeffersons" only in reverse.

Oh yeah, imagine the hilarity as Billy starts wearing the backwards baseball cap and bling-bling jewelry. Or Jeffy calling Dolly a 'ho. And Dolly walking around with belly button ringing showing out of her baby T, low-cut rider jeans, and thong?

I didn't get the temp-to-perm job I interviewed for on Monday. Word has it that I didn't do a very good job designing the flyer I was supposed to do. Wasn't creative enough. My bad for not being able to design a flyer in ten minutes or so. The good news, I guess, is that at least it came down to the graphics test and not the psychological test. Or so they say.

The person at the temp agency who got me the interview told me how frustrated she was with them because she keeps on sending temps over and can't get anyone hired. You'd think that after awhile, the company would figure out that their inability to not hire somebody would be a sign. Like maybe the test is too fricking hard. It's not like there's a plethora of people out there to choose from what with the economy being in the dregs and all. Not being able to fill a position in these economic climes is a bit like a basketball player not being to make it with a stripper.

Whatever.

I did, however, get a temp job, starting tomorrow. It's for a week, but the crazy thing is I've never been happier to get a temp job. Even crazier, I wound up having to turn one down later that afternoon. Now how about that?

But, of course, it wouldn't be a full day without something whacky going on and something whacky did indeed go on. That stupid advertising agency, the one that I keep on getting set up with yet never hired, actually called me. They hired a new recruiter who didn't realize I was the guy at the dance who not even the super-geeky girls would dance with and having seen my posted resume, thought I'd be perfect the job. Since desperation has always been a good friend of us guys who not even the super-geeky girls would dance with, the hint of desperation in the recruiter's voice was music to my ears.

We shall see.

Ah man, no more "Curb Your Enthusiasm" till whenever the next run is. Stupid HBO.

I love when an old friend tells you he's going to be in town over the weekend and that you should hang, but doesn't actually say when you should hang. Instead you just get a message saying you could do something on one particular day but they don't know when. The end result is that you spend most of the day waiting to hear back from them yet never actually hear back from them. You do, however, hear from a couple of other friends who suggest things to do, all of which you turn down because you're expecting to hear back from this particular friend.

And yes, that's what happened to me over the weekend, thanks for asking.

The pisser of it all was that I knew it was going to come down like that. I knew I was going to get the Flake, yet I still hung in there, hoping against hope. Stupid me. I'm sure he thought I'd flake and so he flaked cause it's one of the reasons for the never-ending cycle of flakiness- nobody actually can ever really count on someone to not flake because everyone expects everyone else to flake. Except every once in awhile there's someone who actually doesn't flake.

Another morning, another interview. This time for a glorified Word Processor position. Well, a Word Processing position with a little Desktop Publishing thrown in too. As well as a little design work, some Web work, and PowerPoint work. Not to mention some financial analysis, handling the phones when the receptionist is on a break, and general office work. Oh yeah, and building up a marketing library "using object-oriented methodology," whatever the hell that is. I actually looked up "object-oriented methodology" online to see what it means but after reading a description of it, I gave up because it was giving me a headache.

And the pay for all of this? $14 an hour.

Before the interview, the person at the employment agency forewarned me that there was to be a three-part test I'm supposed to take. The person at the agency told me that a bunch of people had been sent over, only to flunk out while taking the test. No problem, I told her as I secretly took a big gulp. I hate it when somebody actually tests me on my supposed PowerPoint skills. How am I supposed to get away with lying about it on my resume?

Anyways, I show up at the office, introduce myself to the receptionist, and I'm handed over a sheet that I'm supposed to fill out. It's a psychological test. On one side is a list of adjectives to which I'm supposed to check off all the ones that I think people should say about me. On the other side are the very-same adjectives, except this time, I'm supposed to check off all the ones that people really say about me.

All this for a $14 an hour temp job.

Now how the hell is this psychological test supposed to tell anyone whether or not I'd make a good temp at $14 an hour? What sort of things are they looking for and how can they tell how good I'd be at doing stupid PowerPoint slides by checking off things like "energetic" or "persistent?" How is any of this going to determine anything when it's not like anyone's going to fill it out correctly? After all, I may be sort-of passive and escapist, but there's no way in hell I'm going to admit to being sort of passive and escapist. And finally there's the question of just how much of my rotten luck would it be that I cruise through the rest of the interview and the test only to not get the job because something on the test says that I have a fear of conflict due to mommy issues? And even if it's true, what the hell does it have to do with making flyers?

I finish up and the interview begins. The interview goes well although the lady who interviews me asks my why it appears that I can't hold a job for very long (you'd think that someone who works in an HR department of San Francisco would have heard of lay-offs). And with that, I go take my non-psychological test.

Basically the gist is that I have twenty-five minutes to do three different tasks on the computer- one file conversion, a PowerPoint presentation, and the designing of a flyer on PhotoShop. None of these are that difficult, but it is kind of difficult when timed like that. The file conversion thing is a pretty quick little chore so basically you have a little over twenty minutes to do two tasks that would normally take about twenty minutes to do each, more to do each well. Which brings up the great Solomesque dilemma of the test- 'tis better to finish or almost finish both of them yet do a half-assed job of both or do a kick-ass job on one and suck on the other? I went for Option #1 and did the half-assed job on both. And half-assed pretty much described it. The PowerPoint thing totally sucked mainly because just as I got into the groove I realized I had about ten minutes left and had to design a flyer and the flyer had potential but kind of came off looking like I was stopped in the middle of it because the test was over. Which it was.

All of which makes me wonder this- I wonder why it is they're having trouble filling the position?

Hmmm, maybe I should have said I was fussy?

Oh, the worst part of the whole experience? I'm coming off BART and waiting for the light on 16th and Valencia and because I'm all decked out in a suit, some homeless guy gloms onto me thinking that because I'm in a suit, I have money. Instead of doing the usual "spare change" routine, he walks right up next to me, tries to get me into a conversation, ignores the fact I'm trying my darndest not to get into a conversation with him, and then gives me a guilt trip for not giving him money. Dude, if I don't get a job in a couple of weeks, I'm going to be out asking for spare change.

Here's more signs of the crapiness of today's economy-

I haven't been able to get through to the Unemployment people all week. Everytime I call, I always get a message saying that they've the maximum amount of callers they can handle and that you should try back later. That's always a good sign that we got a robust economy.

Today I finally get through to someone. When I mention that I got laid off from a magazine, the guy on the other end of the line tells me he was working in publishing and he got laid off last year too and the only work he was able to get was with the Unemployment Office. Except that now they've cut all their hours (which is part of the reason why it's so hard to reach anyone) and are about to lay off a bunch of people.

Which makes sense, if you think about it. Because what better Government Agency to downsize in the midst of a high unemployment rate than the Unemployment people. Cause, you know, nobody needs to deal with Unemployment then.

You know, though, that getting laid off from Unemployment is kind of funny only in that you get to see you're collecting unemployment from Unemployment.

Friggin' Hotmail is SUCKING today. Again.

My guess is that there's yet another virus that's needing to be debugged, a guess I'm making on the strength of a barrage of e-mails bouncing back to me from people I don't know and another, all with attachments.

Jesus frickin' Christ people, how lame do you have to be to open an attachment sent to you by somebody named "Candi" or "Elsa"? Hello? Why is it that those of us who are slightly functionally literate in computers are suffering because some stupid old lady in Topeka Kansas who checks her e-mail just to get the latest tabs on her Church's BINGO game is to stupid to know not to open every e-mail she gets?