Wednesday, December 29, 2004
With day six commencing, I am finding out that I do not have the fortitude to be a stay at home mom. Stay at home, yes. Stay at home mom, NO! I love love love my kid and we have a great time together but the small things are turning into big things and now I am scouring the web trying to find out how to get silly putty out of hair. Perhaps it is the friend factor that has me wanting to drown myself in a bubble bath with a cigarette in one hand a glass of shiraz in the other. You see, yesterday around 4 p.m. I gave birth to a twelve year old named Nate and both Kingfish and I agree that other people’s kids turn into assholes after a very short while no matter how much we like them. So I am sitting here, waiting for the monsters to go kill each other outside so I can drink my coffee in ignorant bliss this chilly December morning because if I have lecture the spawn one more time, I may spontaneously combust.
We are having friends over tonight, friends over tomorrow night and a party on Friday. I have much to do and very little motivation to do it. If my pajammies weren’t so damn comfy I would put my over the shoulder boulder holder on and do some jumping jacks to get the blood flowing instead of relying on my cup of jo to do it for me.
Santa and his elves were very generous and my house is full to the rim with shiny new toys for all of us to enjoy. I was very sad to say goodbye to my brother. I wish like hell he would move home and we could go back to being a next to normal family. I never in a million years thought our family would be separated, let alone that it would be my brother that would create that void. It makes me sad but it is too early to cry plus the drumming has started and let me tell you, there is NOTHING in this world that can compare to an eight year old pretending to be Tommie Lee at nine in the morning.
Oh and for those of you who have inquired about the interview, that asshole never returned my inquiries. I pretty much decided that I wasn’t going to accept if an offer was made but still, some sort of feedback would have been nice. If they want to market an orgasm enhancing, g-spot placement optimization pillow to men then so be it. I should have known that this guy was a complete hack when he started busting on Sexyland and comparing their advertising budget to his. They (Sexyland) are in the porn business, he told me with a hint of disdain in his voice whereas his company is in the business of improving the sex lives of millions. Stupid, stupid man.
Well, I am off to scour my house, take some headache medicine and enjoy the quite that is two kids being cajouled to go to a friends house.
We are having friends over tonight, friends over tomorrow night and a party on Friday. I have much to do and very little motivation to do it. If my pajammies weren’t so damn comfy I would put my over the shoulder boulder holder on and do some jumping jacks to get the blood flowing instead of relying on my cup of jo to do it for me.
Santa and his elves were very generous and my house is full to the rim with shiny new toys for all of us to enjoy. I was very sad to say goodbye to my brother. I wish like hell he would move home and we could go back to being a next to normal family. I never in a million years thought our family would be separated, let alone that it would be my brother that would create that void. It makes me sad but it is too early to cry plus the drumming has started and let me tell you, there is NOTHING in this world that can compare to an eight year old pretending to be Tommie Lee at nine in the morning.
Oh and for those of you who have inquired about the interview, that asshole never returned my inquiries. I pretty much decided that I wasn’t going to accept if an offer was made but still, some sort of feedback would have been nice. If they want to market an orgasm enhancing, g-spot placement optimization pillow to men then so be it. I should have known that this guy was a complete hack when he started busting on Sexyland and comparing their advertising budget to his. They (Sexyland) are in the porn business, he told me with a hint of disdain in his voice whereas his company is in the business of improving the sex lives of millions. Stupid, stupid man.
Well, I am off to scour my house, take some headache medicine and enjoy the quite that is two kids being cajouled to go to a friends house.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Well the interview was fair. The position is for a media buyer – a job that sounds extremely exciting and challenging, a job I know I would be good at. He gave me a project – spend 2 million dollars in advertising by first thing this morning. I felt like Montgomery Brewster and half way through I wondered if I was cut from the cloth that would allow me to thrive in a position such as this. I don’t know if I was tired, bored or frustrated, perhaps a mixture of all three, but by hour two I was ready to tell this guy that I was withdrawing my application. Try coming up with a media plan when, 1) You have NEVER seen a media plan let alone created one, 2) Knew NOTHING other than how much you were allowed to spend and 3) in real life it appears the company is marketing to the entirely wrong demographic. It was a challenge but I prevailed. In this instance the word "prevail" means I half assed finished the damn thing. I have yet to hear from the guy. He did mention that he had a couple more interviews with "degreed" individuals with experience so he may be waiting on their more complete, more professional presentation. I guess I should just be happy that he met with me in the first place. (and yes I am being a complete sarcastic bitch with that last statement).
Cons
~ The hours. I would be giving up my forty hour a week gig and giving up watching my son do things like, make it on base for the first time and triumphing over that math problem that had been kicking his ass back to second grade. I couldn’t stand in the window and watch him catch firefly’s with his neighborhood chums on a warm spring evening because I would be at the office trying to get the media kit to Maxim Magazine by deadline.
~ The pay. He thought that 40k a year was a lot of money. I about choked on my own spit when he asked me if I made the big bucks followed by, "Don’t HR people make about forty grand a year?" If this guy thinks forty grand is a lot of cash – especially for someone who works sixty plus hours a week – I would be fighting tooth and nail for fair pay my entire tenure at this company. I could afford a ten grand pay cut but I sure as shit wont. I have worked too long and too hard to get the measly salary that I have. A salary that is so far under market it is pathetic so it would be difficult giving that up.
~ The drive. It’s five miles further than I drive now and even though it doesn’t sound far, 2080 more miles a year is a lot of damn miles. Not to mention the extra thirty minutes to an hour I would be spending in my fabulous car.
~ Having to spend a good portion of my workweek with models from Penthouse and Playboy. < SHUDDERS >
~ The CEO reminds me of the CEO at my current place of employment. Point being – there are reasons why I am searching for new job.
Pros (or should I say, PRO)
~ The job itself sounds fucking cool as shit
We shall see where all of this goes. I havent heard from him in regards to my project so the discussion on how I felt about the position may be mute. I mean, in his eyes I may be nothing other than an unschooled, unrefined and uncapable secretary.
Cons
~ The hours. I would be giving up my forty hour a week gig and giving up watching my son do things like, make it on base for the first time and triumphing over that math problem that had been kicking his ass back to second grade. I couldn’t stand in the window and watch him catch firefly’s with his neighborhood chums on a warm spring evening because I would be at the office trying to get the media kit to Maxim Magazine by deadline.
~ The pay. He thought that 40k a year was a lot of money. I about choked on my own spit when he asked me if I made the big bucks followed by, "Don’t HR people make about forty grand a year?" If this guy thinks forty grand is a lot of cash – especially for someone who works sixty plus hours a week – I would be fighting tooth and nail for fair pay my entire tenure at this company. I could afford a ten grand pay cut but I sure as shit wont. I have worked too long and too hard to get the measly salary that I have. A salary that is so far under market it is pathetic so it would be difficult giving that up.
~ The drive. It’s five miles further than I drive now and even though it doesn’t sound far, 2080 more miles a year is a lot of damn miles. Not to mention the extra thirty minutes to an hour I would be spending in my fabulous car.
~ Having to spend a good portion of my workweek with models from Penthouse and Playboy. < SHUDDERS >
~ The CEO reminds me of the CEO at my current place of employment. Point being – there are reasons why I am searching for new job.
Pros (or should I say, PRO)
~ The job itself sounds fucking cool as shit
We shall see where all of this goes. I havent heard from him in regards to my project so the discussion on how I felt about the position may be mute. I mean, in his eyes I may be nothing other than an unschooled, unrefined and uncapable secretary.
Friday, December 17, 2004
You know, I was under the impression that this was the season of giving and not the season of lying between your fucking teeth in the hopes of making a goddamn buck at the expense of totally innocent people. Humankind is utterly disappointing at times and I so completely despise those loathsome fucking individuals that make it necessary for government-imposed curfews, disclaimers on EVERYTHING, riot gear and return policies. The type of people that employ, personal injury attorneys, regulatory agencies, human resources professionals and security guards.
Your fucking back hurts because my husband ran into your SILVER-FUCKING-ADO while driving an OLDSMO-FUCKING-BILE going EIGHT FUCKING MILES PER HOUR? I hope your brittle back breaks you pathetic piece of shit.
Your fucking back hurts because my husband ran into your SILVER-FUCKING-ADO while driving an OLDSMO-FUCKING-BILE going EIGHT FUCKING MILES PER HOUR? I hope your brittle back breaks you pathetic piece of shit.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
It’s chilly up in this here bitch and I can’t seem to get warm. The heater beneath my desk and the (shitty) Maxwell House coffee is doing nothing for the chill in my bones. God I am a pussy or rather I have turned into one but I sure hope we wake up to a blanket of white for Christmas. I remember putting plastic bags on my feet to try to keep the wet out while playing in the snow. Damn I miss being a kid.
My perfect Christmas is brewing (shitty) coffee in my flannel nightgown with my older brother Peter who has made it over the river and through the woods in a gray wooly sweater and with perfect teeth on a snowy Christmas morning so he can surprise the family who thought he was in some third world country feeding antibiotics to Ebola victims. You know, the quintessential storybook Christmas that is shoved down our throats every year by way of television specials and Folgers commercials, the type of Christmas our standards have stemmed from even though no one celebrates the holiday THAT perfectly. It sure sounds fun even though in reality we will rip our presents open, eat ourselves into a coma and then file out to a picture show so we don’t feel so gluttonous. It’s not so bad in fact it’s quite nice but I still want it to snow damnit.
Switching wheels
Project Runway is such a guilty pleasure and I feel like a retarded whore for watching it but I luv the show with all of my soul.
Is this some sick joke? I am trembling. Surely life isn’t fair. Not fair at ALL!!!
Thou shalt not covet they neighbors wife who is lucky enough to own fantastic shoes.
I think I am going to pass out from desire. It’s stupid that shoes are this expensive but GODDAMN ARE THEY HOT! And just an FYI, I decided not to post a link to the $995 lime green crocodile clutch purse because I don’t want to seem TOO shallow.
My perfect Christmas is brewing (shitty) coffee in my flannel nightgown with my older brother Peter who has made it over the river and through the woods in a gray wooly sweater and with perfect teeth on a snowy Christmas morning so he can surprise the family who thought he was in some third world country feeding antibiotics to Ebola victims. You know, the quintessential storybook Christmas that is shoved down our throats every year by way of television specials and Folgers commercials, the type of Christmas our standards have stemmed from even though no one celebrates the holiday THAT perfectly. It sure sounds fun even though in reality we will rip our presents open, eat ourselves into a coma and then file out to a picture show so we don’t feel so gluttonous. It’s not so bad in fact it’s quite nice but I still want it to snow damnit.
Switching wheels
Project Runway is such a guilty pleasure and I feel like a retarded whore for watching it but I luv the show with all of my soul.
Is this some sick joke? I am trembling. Surely life isn’t fair. Not fair at ALL!!!
Thou shalt not covet they neighbors wife who is lucky enough to own fantastic shoes.
I think I am going to pass out from desire. It’s stupid that shoes are this expensive but GODDAMN ARE THEY HOT! And just an FYI, I decided not to post a link to the $995 lime green crocodile clutch purse because I don’t want to seem TOO shallow.
