Good Thing I Have a Job

I'm going to try something new today. You know how they say you should never go food shopping when you're hungry?  'They' also say you should never blog when pissed.  Well here I goooooooooo......

I have to tell you, I have absolutely NO IDEA how you single people get stuff done. We have a very equitable distribution of duties at our house but with my wife taking the week off 'elsewhere', I am the lone biped.  As such, I am in charge of the house and the two quadrupeds. Let me describe my day...

YESTERDAY:

Off to work by eight.
Off to home at four.
Stop by credit union to deposit last week's paycheck.
Credit union, which my wife told me closes at six, closes at four thirty. I got there at four thirty five. Mind you, this is the mortgage payment.
Spitting blood, I go home.

Once home, I am greeted by all sorts of Cat Detritus. For reasons known only to Beelzebub, the cat has taken to peeing on puppy pads. Then he wraps them up around a small rug in a knot and I get to untangle them and deposit them in the trash, replacing with a new one for him to foul.  Later, while cleaning the cat box, I find a pair of gloves. I have no idea why.

The dog is so happy to see me, he runs to the door because he wants to go out. But of course he wants to go out - he's been in the house all day, you are thinking. It's no big emergency as he has already shit on the kitchen floor. While carrying it to the toilet, some leaps out onto the floor.

"This isn't turning out well," I say to myself; in quite different words, at a ridiculously high volume.

Dog comes in and runs to the cat bowl, to lick out every last quantum molecule of cat food. The cat, meanwhile, is eating the dog's food. Funny as Cat Foot Ballet is, the cat shouldn't be eating the dog's food because he's f-ing diabetic. So I tell him to get out of the dog food. Absolutely no effect. GET OUT OF THE DOG FOOD. He doesn't even twitch. GET OUT OF THE F-ING DOG FOOD OR I WILL KILL YOU, combined with rapid motion toward the dog food bowl does the trick.

Speaking of diabetes, the cat needs shots twice a day. This is something I cannot do so a very kind niece helps (although she didn't help last night). When he misses shots, the peeing all over the house starts.

Undaunted, the cat jumps up on the couch next to me and starts pawing and pricking me, wanting attention. This cat is obviously lacking in empathy. At this point, I'd rather play Feline Aviation than pet him.  I gently pick him up and move him to the other side of the couch. Undaunted a second time, he immediately comes back, purring as loudly as he can, trying to get up my butt.  I move him again. He comes back again. I move him a third time and he comes most of the way back, sneaking over half an inch or less, til he can touch me. And purr loudly. So loudly I can't concentrate (ok, let's face it, I can't concentrate too well to begin with).  The dog, with his best I wasn't doing anything Dad look, leaps up on the couch and does not purr.

An hour later, I'm off to the Happy Place<tm>, for our single hour visit.
Then home to cook, straighten, and yell some more.

TODAY:

I lefty work early to make sure I could get to the credit union before closing. In spite of the fact that no one stops for stop signs, I made it(!).  I deposited my check, which my wife told me goes in as cash, and the teller tellers me that it will take two days to clear.  I asked why paychecks didn't go in as cash. She looked confused for a bit then asked me where the check tearoff was. Out in the car, of course. So I ran to the car (it's snowing at this point), only to find it's back at home, where I left it. Back to the counter, it goes in as a check, to clear in two days.  Have I mentioned this is my mortgage payment? Spitting bullets AND blood, I go home.

I'm surprised they didn't call the police at that point.  When I hit the parking lot, I gave the entire neighborhood a lesson in Screamonics. I continued all the way home, questioning the credit union's parentage and noting that the check will clear for them immediately but I have to wait two days. This is why I stopped going to banks.

When I get home, I am greeted by all sorts of Cat Detritus. There is a puppy pad, wrapped around a small rug. And in the cat box is the pair of gloves. I continue to have no idea why.  Does he wipe with them? Do they make him feel more comfortable while he's excreting?

The dog then runs to the door again. And once again, he has shit on the floor. This is the weirdest deja vu I have ever had.

Then the cat jumps up on the sofa, purring, and tries to physically attach himself to me. This horrid rerun is brought to you by the Philly Credit Union, where no cats are ever hurt via banking. The dog is smart enough to make himself scarce when I go off. The cat, not so much.

LAST NIGHT:

Things are lovely at the Happy Place<tm>.  Walking in the door was not a smart idea in the first place, considering my mood. Where is my wife's hoagie from the previous day? Some idiot threw it out (probably after eating it). Why is my wife tired? Her first roommate spent her entire time coughing up a lung. When she left, they moved the Sandwich Stealer in, whose other hobby is snoring. Loudly and constantly. They had to give out earplugs (I am not kidding). Later that night, the idiot threw out someone else's sandwich.

Where is the staff?  I sure see them a lot. They suggest to keep sandwiches in their fridge. Do they discipline the Sandwich Stealer? No.  When Nina Jesus'd everyone to death and threw liquid at someone, did they move her? No.  Pardon my math and lack of psychological experience but why are the malcontents allowed to destabilize the entire unit? Where is the accountability? Over with Obama's accountability. I informed my wife that sometimes people trip. Perhaps the Sandwich Stealer tripped and hit her head on the wall three or four times. These things happen.

So here I am, ready to go visit for that generous hour and I'm in quite a Mood. Worse than yesterday. I sure hope they don't keep me.

Then it's shopping and dinner and lunch for tomorrow.  Only three more days of this heaven.

You betcha I'm pissed.


P.S. And just as I'm finishing this up, the f-ing BROWSER CRASHES. I am being pushed too far.

EDIT:  I found out some High Mucketymuck at the hospital came down personally to badger and intimidate my wife for copays. Someone will answer for this.

The Unemployment Follies #8 - Will the Kurds Get Their Whey?

[The following takes place between the last time I wrote and today.]

Good morning, good afternoon and good evening, dear readers.  It's great to be here today. In fact, it's great to be anywhere.

MUSIC APPRECIATION

Many years ago, when I still flew, I went to Los Angeles on vacation. I visited a lefty guitar store, one of the main ones at that time.  It was truly Disneyland for me.  A store where almost every guitar was a lefty.  He had one of everything.  The one that really rung my bell was a 1958 lefty Stratocaster.  It was like heaven made from wood in my hands.  It was so magical that it almost played itself.  It was only twelve grand or so, just a hair out of my budget.

Hidden away in the back room was a treasure: a 1960 lefty Les Paul standard.  There were only three ever made.  McCartney had one, someone in another country had the second and I got to hold and play the third.  It was a decent guitar at a decent price - only $95,000.  I was a little disappointed, mentioning to the store owner that it only played like a $35,000 guitar.  Price aside, it was not for me.

Yesterday I opened an issue of Vintage Guitar magazine and discovered that one of these Les Pauls just sold at auction, for the bargain price of $194,000.  Don't I feel stupid for not picking the guitar up when it was under a hundred grand...

THE CONTINUING SEARCH OF BUNGALOW LEFTY

To no one's surprise, I am still without a job.  Of course the title probably clued everybody in anway. Let's emphasize the positive and state that when I get a job, I'll have to go back to writing... well... whatever it is that I used to write before the hammer fell. And you'll have to read it, so let's just give thanks where we can.

You were probably wondering what sorts of interesting job search results have appeared.  Let me ease your burden and list some of them:

• Visual Impairment Service Team Coordinator [VIST Team - FREEZE!]
• Customer Destruction Specialist [now here's one we can all get behind]
• Concierge-Event Planning [because I love people and hospitality]
• Java Developer [I'm more of a java consumer]
• Tumor Registrar [a room for how many organs, sir?]
• Freelance Sports Photographer [because I love sports and can't take a picture with an idiot-proof camera]
• Geospatial Technician [huh?]

I had an incredible interview the other day.... it was an intensive security position with a very large company. Everything looked good, I liked the job description and they seemed to like me. Then BOOM - the anchor dropped.  The job required over fifty percent travel.  I don't know about you but two months in beautiful downtown Utah just doesn't make my nipples swell.

I have spent a whole lot of time consuming job interviewing tips from all over the place. I can safely say that I know what not to do and even a bit of what TO do.  The key to a good interview is to anticipate the questions and have answers ready, in addition to examples. During a phone conversation, it should go something like this:

Tell me about yourself.  Hi, my name is lefty and I make people nervous.

What is your ideal day on the job?  Thanks for asking. I'd start with an intensive review of the evening's security events, followed by some chocolate, pizza and then the strippers. I'd close with some oral.

Wait - I need to put you on hold - my wife is flashing me.

Where do you see yourself in five years?  Certainly not in this dump. I intend to avail myself of all the benefits and run like the wind. With any luck, I'll be able to blame it all on the boss.

You were laid off?  Why?  I'm glad you chose to ask this highly illegal question.  My position was eliminated, right after I eliminated the CIO and half of the board.  Just because I soiled his wife was no reason to be so upset. Yes, that was a chainsaw, but I couldn't have done it because I could never start the damn thing.

How do you keep current with security news?  Websites, news readers and Juggs magazine.

With preparation like this, it's amazing that I don't have multiple job offers.

IT'S OK, I'M INDEPENDENTLY WEALTHY

Remember the well-meaning neighbor?  The one who asked when our house was going up for sheriff's sale?  We're finally one-up on him: we called the mortgage company and, as it turns out, they're not all that keen on calling the sheriff.  The best moment was when we were going over our finances, Lieutenant Mortgage came to the conclusion that without our mortgage payment, we were four dollars in the hole.  Suffice it to say, they're quite content to work with us.  This works out well, as I can't rely upon public wifi to write these sagas.

NOT QUITE ERRATA

I passed the dog on my way in.  He had his face buried in something of weird color.  Then I got distracted by the neighbor washing her car in those shorts and.... 

Ok, so I passed the dog on the way in. When I got back to him, he was finishing up someting.  Minimal detective work indicated that he had bored through a pizza box to get at the poisoned pizza that he stole from the trash.  He has a cast iron stomach, largely from eating cast iron.

Speaking of trash, I mentioned our new automatic trash can.  Wave my hand over it and it opens, then closes on its own.  Apparently it needs a tuneup because it tends to open and close for no apparent reason.  Every night we sit in the living room and hear the can opening and closing.  It's almost a form of cheap entertainment these days (as everyone knows, I'm a cheap and easy date. Mostly easy).

Last but not least, I need to unburden myself.  This is just between us, ok? I don't want the wife to find out.  You see, it's about the wife. For some reason, perhaps due to all that loud music when she was little, her hearing has gone to hell.  I didn't want to be the one to tell her that she answers her cell phone in speakerphone mode, then puts it to her ear.  Mostly she puts the phone down and talks to it REALLY LOUDLY. I keep telling her she's shouting. She keeps telling me she's sorry, then goes back to shouting at the phone again. It's getting so I can't hear the tv or watch porn on my laptop.

I feel much better now - thank you.