Happy Turkey Day!

23 Nov

Prepare yourself for brilliance. And by brilliance, I mean tacky Thanksgiving jokes. How is this job related, you ask? Don’t ask silly questions, I say.

What key has legs and can’t open doors?
A Turkey.

If April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?

What are the feathers on a turkey’s wings called?
Turkey feathers

Can a turkey jump higher than the Empire State Building?
Yes – a building can’t jump at all

Where did the first corn come from?
The stalk brought it

Why did the Indian chief wear so many feathers?
To keep his wigwam



Voicemails Are Teh Bad

17 Nov

I have two personalities.  I like to think that my face to face persona is as normal as anyone can ever hope to be.  My voicemail persona is far from that.  It’s like that kid in homeroom who has no idea he smells really bad, but desperately wants to be your friend and show you his Pokemon cards.  You’re a little scared of him, you definitely don’t understand him, and make fun of him behind his back because you’re 16 and a prick.    My voicemails are painful to listen to, and just as painful to record.  I stammer, awkwardly pause and say things like, “Crap, I’m talking too long, aren’t I?  I’m sorry, you’ll probably think this is stupid and then you’ll hate me and wonder why you’re even my friend…oh my God, why am I still talking?  Okay, I’m going to stop.  Okay, thanks.  Bye.  Call me if you don’t think I’m weird.  Yeah.  Bye.”

I hate leaving them, especially to prospective employers.  I need to have a written outline of what I’m going to say if I hope to spare them from any embarrassing displays of incompetency or desperation.  Which is why I find this comic incredibly relatable:(Via lefthandedtoons.com. Thanks to Avery for sending this our way!)

Sixth Time’s The Charm?

16 Nov

Today I got hired for my sixth internship. As those (2) people who are regular readers will remember, I had hoped that my fifth internship would be my last. I am totally this dude, ready to fly one more kite even though the last five didn’t work out so well. Hope springs eternal, eh?

So what will I be doing this time, you ask? I’ll be working in the corporate department of a humongous, worldwide PR company. Selling out? Maybe. But this internship pays to the tune of $12 an hour. And I’ve been told many times over, “PR can be anything you want it to be,” so I am choosing not to dwell on the size of the company or its roster of clients (including Wal Mart) and instead focus on the possibilities of PR intersecting with my interests in storytelling and filmmaking.

In sum, I’m going to say it again, even though it will come back to haunt me: Hopefully this sixth internship will be my last.

Guess Who Has a Job?

14 Nov

ME.  Booyah.


How did it happen?  Perhaps the universe finally recognized my inherent worth and capabilities.  Perhaps one of my billions of applications finally accepted.  Or maybe I just met a lady at a party and got a job three days later.  (Hint: it wasn’t the first two.)

The literacy council I volunteer for held a tutor appreciation ceremony on Friday, November 5th.  As I was about to leave, a woman introduced herself to me as one of the council board members.  We got to chatting, and she told me she helps run a tutoring service in town.  I off-handedly remarked, “Oh yeah, I applied there a while back, but never heard anything because I’m not a credentialed teacher.”  I’m what you would call suave.

I think I inadvertently guilt-tripped her, because she asked for my contact information and availability, and said she’d check into some opportunities for me.  I scribbled it on a ripped loose leaf with a fat, red Crayola marker.  (Kids, I am the epitome of professionalism, should you ever need a mentor).  She said she’d give me a call, and I thought, “Yeah, okay, and I’ll sprout wings and fly to Neptune.”  Still, I thanked her, and walked out expecting nothing to come of it.

Except that something totally did!

She called me on the following Monday and asked me to come in for an interview on Tuesday.  When I showed up, she gave me the contract to sign and asked me when I could start.  That was it.  I guess networking kind of works, doesn’t it?

It’s very part-time.  I’ll only tutor six, maybe eight hours a week.  But the money is great, because a) it’s money, finally! and b) I get 22 kahunas an hour.  Martha’s Vineyard, here I freakin’ come!

I start this week.  It feels good to have joined the working masses.  It’ll be a sign that I’ve fully joined their ranks once I start complaining about my job, which I can’t wait to do, because it means I have a job to complain about (however small it is).  YAYZORS!

Juggling Act

12 Nov

I am now a juggler.

I never wanted to be one. In fact, in my one attempt at actual juggling, I didn’t make it past the plastic bag version. I certainly didn’t manage to ever juggle more than one bean bag, and couldn’t ever juggle a single knife. I am very good at mono-tasking to the world’s incessant multi-tasking. Some people tell me this is good, a lost art as it were. Certainly A.J. Jacobs would agree.

So you can see how it wouldn’t be the easiest thing for me to be a juggler. Last night I took the subway from my internship writing for a financial blog to a screening of IRUBNY for coverage with the New York Press, then went home and took a writing test for a possible internship with Cohn & Wolfe. Today I have to write the coverage of the movie I would have written last night, then have whatever Friday night fun I was hoping I’d be able to have before job hunting online (just my favorite nighttime activity, how about you?).

So I juggle. I run from one current job towards the possibility of a future job and try to keep everything in the air without dropping the ball. And let me tell you, it’s exhausting.


10 Nov


I am too busy making LIFE EVENTS HAPPEN to write you a proper post.  I know your disappointment is intense.  “This is like my parents telling me I’m getting an iPhone for Christmas, but instead I got a booklet of coupons for free food off the dollar menu from Arby’s!”  I’ve pretended you said.  I am so flattered that my lack of posting is equivalent to a scarring Christmas fake memory.  But wait!


I drew you a picture of a unicorn instead.  It’s green because it’s dead.  Or undead, rather.  It’s a zombie unicorn.  Can’t you tell?

This is art.  The epitome of high-brow pretension.  Monet, Van Gogh, make room for me.

Can’t you see how this masterpiece fully encompasses the meaning of life, death, hopes, and failure?  If you answered no,well, you should probably go find some corner of the interweb that’s more suited to your intellectual needs.  Try Livejournal, or Kanye West’s Twitter.  Or www.marvelousmanboobs.com, for you primordial type folks.

I think I have sufficiently enriched your lives for the time being.  You are welcome.

Cheers bitches,


The Vicious Cycle

9 Nov

I’ve finally figured out what I want to do with my life in the world! (sort of!) Huzzah!

As the two or three of you who avidly read this blog know, I want to be a writer. Cue the laughter.

That’s right. I want to spread my own brand of insight and intelligence all over the web and world as if my ideas and opinions are more important than anyone else’s. Because I feel self-important that way. Hell, when I’ve just finished a winner of an article, I feel like freakin’ Shakespeare. All hail this generation’s newest and most wonderful wordsmith.

Dreams are all warm and fuzzy, but I’m realizing reality is much more cold. I’ve been sending out something like 10 letters a week, offering to WORK FOR FREE, and I got only one response:

As you know, we love video on our website (especially when it allows me to pose nude). That said, our top priority right now is just getting our newspapers out — and we are VERY short-staffed. What you describe is very appealing, but there really is no way to work you into our system given the current restrictions we have over here.

Sorry, but thanks.
This is officially a low point. A short-staffed newspaper can’t afford to take me on for free (um, hello, I could be the tall staff writer that ends your short-staffed-ness!).
Knowing what I want to do may only be the first battle of the war. I’ve found my personal legend, but achieving it is another matter entirely. Too bad I don’t have the world conspiring to help me out … damn you Paulo Coelho and your unrealistic self-help books masquerading as graphic novels!