Last night, like most of America, my wife and I sat mesmerized by all that is Barack Obama. We were in awe of his speech, both the substance of it and the artistry in which he delivered it. We were moved by his story, as it continues to be written. And perhaps most of all, we were impressed by the behavior of his daughters. That’s gone un-noticed too long.
For all of those who feel he doesn’t represent them, doesn’t know what they go through, they didn’t notice the toothless smile of his 7 year old. I’m pretty cynical, but I don’t think you can fake parenting. And to have your 7 year old sit through a speech like that, and remain on her best behavior, well that’s what an “every man’s” dream. Anyone who can parent, two young girls, has enough experience to qualify for any job.
***
John McCain’s pick for his VP, Sarah Palin looks qualified for a job in the White House, as one of Bill Clinton’s interns. Seriously, she looks like every other soccer mom at Oak Park Mall. Maybe she is qualified to be the next in line for President, beside a 72 year old who has been thrice treated for cancer. And their biggest knock on Barack is lack of experience? Palin is Governor of Alaska, that’s not a state, it’s a large park. Basically she’s just a glorified park ranger. Maybe it’s just me, but this pick sounds like playground politics, “see, I’m for change too. I picked a girl!”
August 29, 2008
August 19, 2008
All In
Six years, that’s about how long I was a real poker fanatic. I was never really much of a player, not to the extent I dreamt of being. But it was always fun, and it’s still fun. But it was as much as an obsession as it was a hobby. At first I played about twice a week, and with god awful players. So it was quite profitable for me. Then I joined this “league” and it became more challenging, and even more fun. We played once a month, and I never missed a game. The nights I was knocked out of early (and often) still didn’t send me home early; I simply waited for the “cash game” to start.
But things sure do change. I had a Cal Ripken like streak, and now I’m MIA as often as Chuck Norris. Priorities have shifted, focus has changed. When before, there was nothing going on that I couldn’t shift around to make to make room for a poker game, there is now events I wouldn’t dream of moving. Events like today.
Today’s the first day of first grade for the Kyd. And there just so happens to be a poker game tonight. There’s no coin to flip for me to decide, and I haven’t even given moving our, now annual post-first day dinner, back a day. I’m looking more forward to hearing about the first day of school than I am seeing the first flop.
And oddly enough, a few years ago, there was no excuse good enough to get a guy off the hook. If you missed a game, you were given loads of crap for your absence, more often than not, by yours truly. But the whole dynamic of this group has changed. In the early years the table talk centered around porn or watching Skinamax. Now there’s talk of diapers, schools and trips to Disney.
I’m sure I’ll get back in the swing of things next year, and get to most of the games, if not every one. But it’ll never be my main priority again. Winning a few hundred bucks before, meant either planning a trip to the boats or day dreaming of a trip to Vegas. Now I want to win, to offset the price of school supplies and to take the fam out for a nice meal (defined as any meal that doesn’t come on a tray, in a bag or a box.) See, even my definition of a nice meal has changed.
But things sure do change. I had a Cal Ripken like streak, and now I’m MIA as often as Chuck Norris. Priorities have shifted, focus has changed. When before, there was nothing going on that I couldn’t shift around to make to make room for a poker game, there is now events I wouldn’t dream of moving. Events like today.
Today’s the first day of first grade for the Kyd. And there just so happens to be a poker game tonight. There’s no coin to flip for me to decide, and I haven’t even given moving our, now annual post-first day dinner, back a day. I’m looking more forward to hearing about the first day of school than I am seeing the first flop.
And oddly enough, a few years ago, there was no excuse good enough to get a guy off the hook. If you missed a game, you were given loads of crap for your absence, more often than not, by yours truly. But the whole dynamic of this group has changed. In the early years the table talk centered around porn or watching Skinamax. Now there’s talk of diapers, schools and trips to Disney.
I’m sure I’ll get back in the swing of things next year, and get to most of the games, if not every one. But it’ll never be my main priority again. Winning a few hundred bucks before, meant either planning a trip to the boats or day dreaming of a trip to Vegas. Now I want to win, to offset the price of school supplies and to take the fam out for a nice meal (defined as any meal that doesn’t come on a tray, in a bag or a box.) See, even my definition of a nice meal has changed.
August 13, 2008
Hirpasms
I’m a little bitter, and with good reason. Although, truth be told, whenever I’m bitter it’s for good reason. But this is really good. Turns out my parents have discarded much of the paperwork of my childhood. Including in what can now be officially labeled as trash is: grade school report cards, medical reports (hey, where’s the x-ray of my broken back?) and the grunt work behind my Bar Mitzvah. So I can’t share my “pause” speech with my wife and kyd, nor the details of a trip to a specialist when I was like 4.
Goes something like this, I was a little off as a child (shocker) and my motor skills weren’t up to par the rest of my development. This is still the case, my handwriting makes the scribble of doctors look like artwork. So as my mom tells it, I took this opportunity to show off. When asked if I could count to 10, I asked if they wanted it in English or Spanish. What I most want to read about is where they explain why they felt I made jokes of a sexual nature. See, I was a little shit and a perv before I hit 1st grade. That’s madd skillz, yo.
But I can’t read any of this. It’s gone. What the hell?! Sorry, but I’m a sentimental bastard. When my parents bite it, I want as many pictures as possible. For their anniversary last year, my wife and I stole most of their photos and put them in albums. They thought it was thoughtful, I thought it was a move of great foresight. I didn’t want to do it later. See, that’s why I said sentimental bastard. Both adjectives are accurate. But really, of course I wanted to give them a nice gift.
They did, luckily, still have my Bar Mitzvah video tape. And watching part of last night was a terrorfying trip down memory lane. The wife thinks I looked like I was eight at the time, not 13. As double down said, “what can I say, I look young.” The amount of metal in my mouth would set off airport alarms, but if I was 13 now, I could just call them Grillz.
***
Driving to work today, I felt like I was very close to falling asleep at the wheel. Like, dangerously close. So I wonder how often early morning accidents are caused, not by multi-tasking drivers, but sleepy drivers?
So the Chinese didn’t want to use the less cute girl to sing at the Opening Ceremonies, and they digitally altered the firework show on the broadcast. We shouldn’t let the fact that even the organizers cheat, take away from all the world records being broken on a daily basis. We should already know that everything is on some form of steroids or another. Look at the box office numbers of Batman, that gets more than a little boost from inflation. How much was a ticket when Star Wars came out, or even Titanic?
The wife and I purchased our new car last night. Just when I was thinking that signing all that paperwork together could be good practice for the day we buy a house, I hear a statistic on the radio this morning that 45% of people who purchased a home since 2006, purchased the home for more than it’s worth today. That’s scary as all hell. And they say renting is throwing away money.
A headline on CNN.com right now reads: “Man charged with murder in wife’s suicide.” Um, doesn’t the charge or murder kind of stop that from being a suicide?
The producers of the new “90210” are going out of their way to let it be known, that they are staying away from the “cheese factor.” So this isn’t the new 90210, it’s another shitty WB teen drama with some actors who really needed work badly after the original show ended. And they have just enough pride to not do “The Surreal Life” or release a sex-tape, but still need to make some mortgage payments.
The dearly departed Bernie Mac and Issac Hayes recently finished filming a movie together, Soul Men. The star of the movie is Samuel L Jackson, who must be shitting his pants right now. But there’s no man alive, that I’d rather be in the room if he’s given the chance to say his last words. Can you name the movies?
He see’s the light, “That's right, preacher, get me drunk so I don't stick my foot up your ass.”
Samuel Jackson enters heaven, finds Latin is the preferred language “English, motherfucker, do you speak it?
Needs a favor from God, “You know man, I hate be the kind of nigger that do a nigger a favor and then Bam! hit the nigger up for a favor in return, but I gots to be that kinda nigger.”
Runs into an old friend, “The fuck you mean you ain't got my money yet? The fuck you *mean* you don't got my money *yet*? You best pay me my motherfuckin' money.”
Asked what he did in life, “I never did one thing right in my life, you know that? Not one. That takes skill.”
Trying to decide what to eat in Heaven, “I eat the pussy, I eat the butt, I eat every motherfuckin' thang.”
Goes something like this, I was a little off as a child (shocker) and my motor skills weren’t up to par the rest of my development. This is still the case, my handwriting makes the scribble of doctors look like artwork. So as my mom tells it, I took this opportunity to show off. When asked if I could count to 10, I asked if they wanted it in English or Spanish. What I most want to read about is where they explain why they felt I made jokes of a sexual nature. See, I was a little shit and a perv before I hit 1st grade. That’s madd skillz, yo.
But I can’t read any of this. It’s gone. What the hell?! Sorry, but I’m a sentimental bastard. When my parents bite it, I want as many pictures as possible. For their anniversary last year, my wife and I stole most of their photos and put them in albums. They thought it was thoughtful, I thought it was a move of great foresight. I didn’t want to do it later. See, that’s why I said sentimental bastard. Both adjectives are accurate. But really, of course I wanted to give them a nice gift.
They did, luckily, still have my Bar Mitzvah video tape. And watching part of last night was a terrorfying trip down memory lane. The wife thinks I looked like I was eight at the time, not 13. As double down said, “what can I say, I look young.” The amount of metal in my mouth would set off airport alarms, but if I was 13 now, I could just call them Grillz.
***
Driving to work today, I felt like I was very close to falling asleep at the wheel. Like, dangerously close. So I wonder how often early morning accidents are caused, not by multi-tasking drivers, but sleepy drivers?
So the Chinese didn’t want to use the less cute girl to sing at the Opening Ceremonies, and they digitally altered the firework show on the broadcast. We shouldn’t let the fact that even the organizers cheat, take away from all the world records being broken on a daily basis. We should already know that everything is on some form of steroids or another. Look at the box office numbers of Batman, that gets more than a little boost from inflation. How much was a ticket when Star Wars came out, or even Titanic?
The wife and I purchased our new car last night. Just when I was thinking that signing all that paperwork together could be good practice for the day we buy a house, I hear a statistic on the radio this morning that 45% of people who purchased a home since 2006, purchased the home for more than it’s worth today. That’s scary as all hell. And they say renting is throwing away money.
A headline on CNN.com right now reads: “Man charged with murder in wife’s suicide.” Um, doesn’t the charge or murder kind of stop that from being a suicide?
The producers of the new “90210” are going out of their way to let it be known, that they are staying away from the “cheese factor.” So this isn’t the new 90210, it’s another shitty WB teen drama with some actors who really needed work badly after the original show ended. And they have just enough pride to not do “The Surreal Life” or release a sex-tape, but still need to make some mortgage payments.
The dearly departed Bernie Mac and Issac Hayes recently finished filming a movie together, Soul Men. The star of the movie is Samuel L Jackson, who must be shitting his pants right now. But there’s no man alive, that I’d rather be in the room if he’s given the chance to say his last words. Can you name the movies?
He see’s the light, “That's right, preacher, get me drunk so I don't stick my foot up your ass.”
Samuel Jackson enters heaven, finds Latin is the preferred language “English, motherfucker, do you speak it?
Needs a favor from God, “You know man, I hate be the kind of nigger that do a nigger a favor and then Bam! hit the nigger up for a favor in return, but I gots to be that kinda nigger.”
Runs into an old friend, “The fuck you mean you ain't got my money yet? The fuck you *mean* you don't got my money *yet*? You best pay me my motherfuckin' money.”
Asked what he did in life, “I never did one thing right in my life, you know that? Not one. That takes skill.”
Trying to decide what to eat in Heaven, “I eat the pussy, I eat the butt, I eat every motherfuckin' thang.”
August 12, 2008
Jst2 Things
I have some quick facts that I find interesting and scary. The average life span for a white mail in America is right about 75 (according to CDC statistics I found online). Martin Luther King Jr and Malcolm X were both assassinated at the young age of 39. John McCain is 71 and Barak Obama is 47. So, what does this tell us? Whoever wins, they better pick the right Vice President. And I hear McCain is considering promising a single term Presidency. I guess that’s supposed to make us feel better, that we know for sure we’ll have a new President in 2012.
I don’t know how that’s supposed to be a good thing. I mean, it would have been less bad if Bush had only served one term, followed by serving time of another kind, but I’m over it. The amount of knowledge I have about politics comes in somewhere between dick and jack shit, but this seems like a move to encourage one thing: give Hillary reason to jack up the Democratic National Convention. She kind of has to play a peace keeper role in the party right now, but if she knew for sure she could run again in four years, rather than eight, I think she might just decide to stop playing nice.
I also heard that one of McCain’s possible reasons for only serving one term, aside from the fact that he’s been around since George Washington’s first term, is to have an a-political President. So why wouldn’t he then give the VP job to Clinton? Other than the fact that every Republican’s head would explode upon such announcement, this could be the best political moves we’ve seen since “The West Wing” ended. Can’t get the image of exploding Republican heads out of my mind, I may just get on board with the old man.
***
It’s funny how priorities can change. A few years ago I went car shopping, and what I cared about was value. That was pretty much it. I didn’t want to spend much, but I did want something somewhat decent looking for the money I spent.
This past weekend the wife and I went shopping for a new car for her, and although I still cared about the price, must be the Jew in me, I also wanted something safe. I wanted something that would get around well in the snow, more so than I wanted great gas mileage. So yes, we’re buying an SUV. Not a real one, it’s a Hyundai Tucson, so it’s about the same size as a Fusion.
I don’t know how that’s supposed to be a good thing. I mean, it would have been less bad if Bush had only served one term, followed by serving time of another kind, but I’m over it. The amount of knowledge I have about politics comes in somewhere between dick and jack shit, but this seems like a move to encourage one thing: give Hillary reason to jack up the Democratic National Convention. She kind of has to play a peace keeper role in the party right now, but if she knew for sure she could run again in four years, rather than eight, I think she might just decide to stop playing nice.
I also heard that one of McCain’s possible reasons for only serving one term, aside from the fact that he’s been around since George Washington’s first term, is to have an a-political President. So why wouldn’t he then give the VP job to Clinton? Other than the fact that every Republican’s head would explode upon such announcement, this could be the best political moves we’ve seen since “The West Wing” ended. Can’t get the image of exploding Republican heads out of my mind, I may just get on board with the old man.
***
It’s funny how priorities can change. A few years ago I went car shopping, and what I cared about was value. That was pretty much it. I didn’t want to spend much, but I did want something somewhat decent looking for the money I spent.
This past weekend the wife and I went shopping for a new car for her, and although I still cared about the price, must be the Jew in me, I also wanted something safe. I wanted something that would get around well in the snow, more so than I wanted great gas mileage. So yes, we’re buying an SUV. Not a real one, it’s a Hyundai Tucson, so it’s about the same size as a Fusion.
August 11, 2008
JstRight
This weekend I was looking over my collection of DVD’s and CD’s, and I paid special attention to how I had them both organized. I have my movies on these little Ikea racks so the cases face outward. The movies are in, pretty much, a specific order in each rack. Starting on the right side, there’s my comedies or generally more “fun” movies. Swingers has its home here. So does Mr. and Mrs. Smith, which bats second to The Break-Up, because the wife and I enjoy it so. Then there are my multiple racks of both gangster flicks and more dramatic or action based movies. There’s three racks of these flicks. Heat, The Departed and Oceans 11 claim the #1 spots. Behind the lead off hitters, I tend to go with either like movies, or the same director. I have my Tarantino movies together, in order by personal preference. The Oceans series is kept together, and behind Heat are my Michael Mann movies.
My CD’s are similar, although not as well organized as they were before. From left to right I have them on shelves, broken up by genre, and in each genre, the favorites read from right to left. Oddly I’ve followed the way you read Hebrew, rather than English. And I really don’t know how I came up with this system, but for years I’ve tried to keep it together. When I pick up a new DVD, and I have to find it’s place in my crazy DVD world. But I only purchase maybe one CD a year now, and I’ve taken most of the inappropriate CD’s off of the shelf. I really don’t want the Kyd asking me why Too Short has a song entitled “Blow Job Betty.”
Our books are kept in the same way. But I get the feeling that is more typical of most households. Here are my Puzo books, and here are the DeMille’s, but I give special attention to Klosterman and Bill Simmons. Their covers face out, as if I’m Border’s and want to sell a few extra copies of these employee favorites.
So I really can’t stop thinking about this. My wife used to just group her movies in a random order. Take a movie out to watch it, and whatever you had in the DVD player goes back in the now empty spot. And her CD’s were all kept in a giant book. Oh, yesterday I decided that I would follow suit on this. Being that I hardly ever listen to CD’s anymore, I figured that our bookshelf could use the extra space. And when she sees the empty spots, I’ll have an excuse to go buy more movies.
I’m positive that this tells us something about our personalities, I just don’t know what. Maybe it’s just the different quirks we have, like how we each stir our drinks in different directions. Of course my way is always the better way, that’s just how I roll.
My CD’s are similar, although not as well organized as they were before. From left to right I have them on shelves, broken up by genre, and in each genre, the favorites read from right to left. Oddly I’ve followed the way you read Hebrew, rather than English. And I really don’t know how I came up with this system, but for years I’ve tried to keep it together. When I pick up a new DVD, and I have to find it’s place in my crazy DVD world. But I only purchase maybe one CD a year now, and I’ve taken most of the inappropriate CD’s off of the shelf. I really don’t want the Kyd asking me why Too Short has a song entitled “Blow Job Betty.”
Our books are kept in the same way. But I get the feeling that is more typical of most households. Here are my Puzo books, and here are the DeMille’s, but I give special attention to Klosterman and Bill Simmons. Their covers face out, as if I’m Border’s and want to sell a few extra copies of these employee favorites.
So I really can’t stop thinking about this. My wife used to just group her movies in a random order. Take a movie out to watch it, and whatever you had in the DVD player goes back in the now empty spot. And her CD’s were all kept in a giant book. Oh, yesterday I decided that I would follow suit on this. Being that I hardly ever listen to CD’s anymore, I figured that our bookshelf could use the extra space. And when she sees the empty spots, I’ll have an excuse to go buy more movies.
I’m positive that this tells us something about our personalities, I just don’t know what. Maybe it’s just the different quirks we have, like how we each stir our drinks in different directions. Of course my way is always the better way, that’s just how I roll.
August 08, 2008
JstRead
As someone who enjoys writing from time to time, you’d really think I would enjoy reading more, but I don’t. Occasionally, I go through spells where I read two or three books in a short time period. And then I go months, even years without picking up reading material that isn’t 80% ads. When it comes to books, my reading pallet isn’t much different from my eating pallet. I have a few authors I enjoy to read, and I’ll happily read anything they put out. But I don’t experiment often, and that’s probably a mistake, just as it is with my eating. And I may never admit that again.
Then a few months ago, I was taking a leadership class at work, and I just happen to be reading The Sports Guy’s first book, “Now I Can Die in Peace.” The instructor found the title both amusing and a little unsettling, so he’d ask questions about it daily, as it sat a top my desk for something to do on breaks and before class began. We got to talking a little about it, and I learned that these sports journalists I like so much, happen to be family friends of his. Turns out his dad used to organize a little NCAA shin dig we call “March Madness.” That’s off the charts.
The conversation turned a little more somber when he mentioned his father had penned a book about a family tragedy. See, my instructor had a brother, and this brother was aboard a plane full of Oklahoma State basketball family members, and this plane never made it to its destination. So his father rode his bike from California to Georgia, in an attempt to well, do something that at least involved moving in a forward motion, after losing his son.
So my wife picked up the book for me last week, and I dove right in. I read just about the entire book the first day. This is only an accomplishment in my eyes now, after expierence just what a challenge it is to read when your child is in the house. Sorry, mom. And with work, the wife, the kid, and most of all, the fact that I didn’t want this read to end, I didn’t finish the book during the week.
This is the type of book, that as you read it, you promise yourself some life altering changes. You’ll live in the moment more, tell your friends and family how much they mean to you, stop and smell the roses, or just keep an eye out for an armadillo that’s alive. Your eyes water up, and you shutter the very thought of going through something as awful as losing your child. You want to vomit. You want to walk up to the writer and give this complete stranger a hug. And in the back of your mind, you know you won’t really do any of this, and you feel like you’ve failed the writer. You also think, in the back of your mind, that someone read this and made all those changes. You both admire and resent that soul.
I’ve learned more about the Hancock family than I should know. I met the writer, John Hancock’s son for one short week, and I could never say I knew him. But now I know much about him, and his family. I know the names of his wife, his sister-in-law and his niece. I know stories from his childhood.
I’ve read books before, about real people even, and I learned their stories. But there’s something different about reading a book about someone you’ve met. It’s like reading having a view of their life that maybe you shouldn’t have. And you can’t stop looking. But this is the view of one amazing family. The class I took was about leadership, and the instructor comes from a family of amazing leaders. This is one remarkable family, the Hancocks. The stories told are those of dreams. A close knit, smart, fun, funny, loving family that seems to already appreciate every gift they have. They didn’t need, not that anyone does, a wake up call or reminder.
But maybe we needed them to. So John Hancock would write “Riding with the Blue Moth” so we could have the pleasure of reading it, and even for a few minutes, dream of being better versions of ourselves. The “Moth” ranks up there with “Tuesdays with Morrie” and “The Five People You Meet in Heaven.” It’s a must read, and a must own. The “lessons’ Hancock writes for his young grand-daughter are lessons we should all write down, and read often to ourselves and our kids.
Then a few months ago, I was taking a leadership class at work, and I just happen to be reading The Sports Guy’s first book, “Now I Can Die in Peace.” The instructor found the title both amusing and a little unsettling, so he’d ask questions about it daily, as it sat a top my desk for something to do on breaks and before class began. We got to talking a little about it, and I learned that these sports journalists I like so much, happen to be family friends of his. Turns out his dad used to organize a little NCAA shin dig we call “March Madness.” That’s off the charts.
The conversation turned a little more somber when he mentioned his father had penned a book about a family tragedy. See, my instructor had a brother, and this brother was aboard a plane full of Oklahoma State basketball family members, and this plane never made it to its destination. So his father rode his bike from California to Georgia, in an attempt to well, do something that at least involved moving in a forward motion, after losing his son.
So my wife picked up the book for me last week, and I dove right in. I read just about the entire book the first day. This is only an accomplishment in my eyes now, after expierence just what a challenge it is to read when your child is in the house. Sorry, mom. And with work, the wife, the kid, and most of all, the fact that I didn’t want this read to end, I didn’t finish the book during the week.
This is the type of book, that as you read it, you promise yourself some life altering changes. You’ll live in the moment more, tell your friends and family how much they mean to you, stop and smell the roses, or just keep an eye out for an armadillo that’s alive. Your eyes water up, and you shutter the very thought of going through something as awful as losing your child. You want to vomit. You want to walk up to the writer and give this complete stranger a hug. And in the back of your mind, you know you won’t really do any of this, and you feel like you’ve failed the writer. You also think, in the back of your mind, that someone read this and made all those changes. You both admire and resent that soul.
I’ve learned more about the Hancock family than I should know. I met the writer, John Hancock’s son for one short week, and I could never say I knew him. But now I know much about him, and his family. I know the names of his wife, his sister-in-law and his niece. I know stories from his childhood.
I’ve read books before, about real people even, and I learned their stories. But there’s something different about reading a book about someone you’ve met. It’s like reading having a view of their life that maybe you shouldn’t have. And you can’t stop looking. But this is the view of one amazing family. The class I took was about leadership, and the instructor comes from a family of amazing leaders. This is one remarkable family, the Hancocks. The stories told are those of dreams. A close knit, smart, fun, funny, loving family that seems to already appreciate every gift they have. They didn’t need, not that anyone does, a wake up call or reminder.
But maybe we needed them to. So John Hancock would write “Riding with the Blue Moth” so we could have the pleasure of reading it, and even for a few minutes, dream of being better versions of ourselves. The “Moth” ranks up there with “Tuesdays with Morrie” and “The Five People You Meet in Heaven.” It’s a must read, and a must own. The “lessons’ Hancock writes for his young grand-daughter are lessons we should all write down, and read often to ourselves and our kids.
August 04, 2008
Oops, I did.....
Call me Gump, ‘cause I’m not a smart man, and I know what dumb is. I hit Careerbuilder.com recently, to look around at what jobs are out there. Ideally, I’d like to do something where I get to write and collect a paycheck for doing so. And there it was, a writing position. So I applied, and since my “jobs” haven’t been really related to writing all that much, I included my blog address on my resume and in my cover letter. And that’s where I made my booboo.
Did you read my previous post? I talked about all the things a hiring manager DOES NOT want from an employee: slacking, negative comments about my boss, a joke about drug use (and I’ve never used) and being stressed at work. I might as well used the old George Costanza joke, and claimed to have slept with their wife. But then I’d be in trouble at home, and still not have that job.
Way to think it thru, Hirp.
I guess my only hope now is, they enjoyed the blog so much, that whoever read it will get home and pull it up again soon and get a chance to read this disclaimer. Really, I’ve never done any drugs. And the slacker thing is just my shtick. My work, well, I’m looking for a new job right?
Did you read my previous post? I talked about all the things a hiring manager DOES NOT want from an employee: slacking, negative comments about my boss, a joke about drug use (and I’ve never used) and being stressed at work. I might as well used the old George Costanza joke, and claimed to have slept with their wife. But then I’d be in trouble at home, and still not have that job.
Way to think it thru, Hirp.
I guess my only hope now is, they enjoyed the blog so much, that whoever read it will get home and pull it up again soon and get a chance to read this disclaimer. Really, I’ve never done any drugs. And the slacker thing is just my shtick. My work, well, I’m looking for a new job right?
ADD Day
I took my Focalin this morning, but I’m totally ADD today. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, I dunno. So far I’ve gone to talk to a friend in the next cube three times, about random stuff, I’ve worked on two different projects, called the wife, started two blog entries and lost my train of thought four times. Best of all, I have three meetings to attend today. Two are utterly pointless and completely frustrating, and I have nothing to add or take away from the last. That’s a productive day if I’ve ever heard of one. Meanwhile my Outlook reminder keeps going off, and I’m hitting snooze with the frequency of a 16 year old, only I’m not scratching my nuts afterwards.
The culprit, that has kicked my ADD into overdrive, is my good ol’ friend, Anxiety. I hate that guy. My buddy on my team is most likely moving to another team, which sucks on numerous levels. He’s the only other person on this team with half a brain, the only one I can trust to carry his load, enjoy going to lunch with, and doesn’t annoy me with every word he utters. Some of the others may have one or even two of those traits, but not all. Plus, there’s a rumor that someone higher up isn’t very happy with the work our team has produced. This means added pressure and a heavier load on my shoulders, and the weight has increased nicely over the past few months. Blogging is no longer the most time consuming task of my day, and sometimes I go days without a chance to even blog once. That’s some hard work right there.
The culprit, that has kicked my ADD into overdrive, is my good ol’ friend, Anxiety. I hate that guy. My buddy on my team is most likely moving to another team, which sucks on numerous levels. He’s the only other person on this team with half a brain, the only one I can trust to carry his load, enjoy going to lunch with, and doesn’t annoy me with every word he utters. Some of the others may have one or even two of those traits, but not all. Plus, there’s a rumor that someone higher up isn’t very happy with the work our team has produced. This means added pressure and a heavier load on my shoulders, and the weight has increased nicely over the past few months. Blogging is no longer the most time consuming task of my day, and sometimes I go days without a chance to even blog once. That’s some hard work right there.
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