Does This Look Funny to You?

More Books with a Letter Missing

2011-08-07T19:28:00.026-04:00

Size the Day – a manifesto on Daylight Savings Time

Per Goriot - the world according to Goriot

Our Ton – the story of an overweight child

How to Make an American Quit – don’t offer him a raise

Le More D'Arthur – the movie sequel

Who's on Fust?

2011-08-06T13:13:00.004-04:00

Love this Twitter meme, about book titles with a letter missing. Here’s my take:

Without Fathers – Woody Allen’s take on single motherhood

The Big Seep – the Exxon Valdez story

Infinite Jet – The Richard Branson story

The Naked and the Dad – a man in mid-life crisis joins a nudist colony

The Lord of the Rigs – you know, one of those bearded behemoths from Ice Road Truckers.

A Payer for Owen Meany – John Irving’s tale of a sugar daddy.

On the Bach – Ringo’s marital memoir

IM – a young boy in India learns the art of text messaging.

The Potman Always Rings Twice – the tale of a persistant drug dealer.

Woking – Studs Terkel’s cookbook.

Schindler’s Lit – Oskar Schindler on a bender

The Wonderful Wizard of O – the Oprah Winfrey story.

The Bile – a bunch of ticked-off prophets vent their spleens

Fust – a tale of what happens when you deal with the devil.

Let Us Now Raise Famous Men – the Barbara Bush story

Mater & Commander – Mom and Dad for the S&M set.

The Dharma Bus – on the road with Jack Kerouac

I'll Have What He's Having

2011-08-02T23:48:00.001-04:00

At last, scientists have invented an invisibility cloak. Quick, throw it over Charlie Sheen.

A sunken submarine yielded $180 million of cocaine. Well, blow me down. Funny it wasn't found on a junk. Or on an ocean line(r).

A Dunkin’ Donuts worker sold herself in the parking lot on her breaks. I wonder if she accepted gift cards.

In China, pickpockets are using chopsticks to relieve citizens of their wallets. (see the YouTube video) Worse, they repeat their crimes a half-hour later.

In France, McDonald’s has added baguettes to the menu. Suggested catchphrases:

Fast food you long for
Long food you fast for
Home of the foot-long hamburger
Try a Long Mac today!
We spit on your undersized American puny burgers

Speaking of food, Harrods is about to debut a $400 lunch. On the menu: bangers and cash; take-my-kidney pie; bubble and shriek.

Drink (M)up, pet

2011-07-31T19:54:00.003-04:00

There’s an article on Bloomberg.com about coping with uncertainty. I’m not sure if I should read it….

*

A Muppet-themed bar opened in San Francisco. My idea of a drinks menu:

Elmojito

Gonzopolitan

Kermit Julep

Absolut Zoot

Snuffalupagoose

Fozzie Bearcardi

Abby Cadabby Campari

Animalaga

Grovermouth

Pink Lady

Getting Frisky

2011-07-30T18:33:00.002-04:00

The Beckhams want to have yet another child. Can’t wait for the birth of little Staten Island Fourteen.

They’re casting a new reality series, “Wall Street Wives.” And, how’s this for cross-programming: next year, the castoffs can visit their hubbies on “Lockup.”

In Illinois, a police station is opening inside a grocery store. Will customers be frisked buying Friskies®?

In Japan, a single bunch of grapes sold at auction for $6,400. I think someone’s finger was on the scale.

New York’s Museum of Modern Art is raising its ticket price to $25. The good news is that it will keep out all that middle-class riffraff.

Switch Hitter

2011-07-28T23:38:00.003-04:00

Have you heard about the soon-to-be bestseller, “Untitled” by Anonymous? Good thing there are no bookstores left, or you’d go nuts trying to find it.

The name “Pippa" is now a top baby name, owing to the popularity of Brit royal Kate Middleton’s sister. I hope Kelly Ripa doesn’t hear about this.

Quote from Slate: “CBS explains Same Name (Sundays at 9 p.m. ET) as ‘a reality series about celebrities trading places with total strangers who just happen to share the same name.’" Can’t wait for the Bernie Madoff episode.

Bad Apple

2011-07-21T23:53:00.000-04:00

Three fake Apple stores popped up in China. How might a customer know if she was in a fake Apple store? My guess:

* The logo has a worm crawling out of it.

* The store sells Ipeds and Ipuds.

* The only iTunes available are by Engelbert Humperdinck and Slim Whitman.

* Their salespeople are known as “baristas.”

* The Genius Bar serves apple martinis.

* The MacBook comes with fries.

* They also sell George Foreman Grills.

Peewees' Playhouse

2011-07-21T23:04:00.000-04:00

When I saw this, I felt like crying. These "outhouses" are better than any place I've ever lived.

Wed-Lockup

2011-07-19T23:41:00.007-04:00

A woman in Michigan was arrested on her wedding day. The vows must have read, “in sickness, in health, and incarcerated.”

Palin the ass

2011-07-19T07:57:00.003-04:00

In contrast to the blockbuster that is Harry Potter, almost no one showed up to view the debut of the Sarah Palin documentary, The Undefeated. Maybe they should call it The Undetected. In one theater, a couple was spotted making out in the balcony. They must have thought the film was about Bristol Palin.

Let Me Call You Sweetheart

2011-07-17T12:56:00.001-04:00

Sears mistakenly priced iPads at $69. Finally, a “Shop Your Way” offering I can relate to.

A woman in Atlanta has 26-inch-long fingernails. Her manicurists have their own union local.

In China, they’re handing out prison sentences to drunk drivers. Now, that’s Carmageddon.

A woman groped a female TSA agent in Phoenix. Look, I know that all of the new airline rules are difficult to understand, but, please, read the signs, people!

Now that the U.S. women’s soccer team is kicking World Cup butt, men want to wear the team’s jerseys. I’m just not sure they can carry off a sweetheart neckline.

Forget Bette Davis

2011-07-15T18:56:00.001-04:00

Have you seen Chicks with Buscemeyes, in which actor Steve Buscemi’s careworn eyes are superimposed over those of otherwise hot women? What’s next?: Chicks with Gandolfinis? Chicks with Kinnears? Or, worse, Dudes with Deschanelbows?

How distressing: Hugh Hefner thinks his former fiancé might have had another lover. Didn’t she know he owns the patent on that shtick?

News Corp. execs are dropping like flies. Note to all high-school yearbook editors: GET BUSY!

I think that Rupert Murdoch should lay low for a while. Maybe he and the Mrs. can rent Whitey Bulger’s apartment, as it appears Whitey won’t be needing it for the next 150 years.

I just read that Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony are kaput. Who’s going to cut the holes in her dresses now?

I Remember Mama, Kinda

2011-07-14T23:50:00.003-04:00

A new study indicates that access to Google, IMDB, and other search engines means we no longer have to commit information to memory. I must remember to tell that to – oh, what’s that word for the woman who gave me life?

Potter's Field

2011-07-14T00:40:00.002-04:00

I don’t know about you, but when it comes to Harry Potter movies, I think that eight is enough. I want the dynamic trio to remain kids forever. I never want to see Ron with a soul patch or Hermione with a tramp stamp, or any of the following:

Harry Potter and the Goddess Quest
Harry Potter and the Bottle of Glenfiddich
Harry Potter and the Egregious Comb-over
Harry Potter and the Adjustable Rate Mortgage
Harry Potter and the Enlarged Prostate

Up Yours!

2011-07-13T00:00:00.007-04:00

Do you believe what Netflix is doing? Bloody hell, what? I don’t know about you, but I feel gored. I’ve certainly soured on Netflix. If I’ve watched one streaming movie, I’ve watched a hundred, but I tell you, I’m done. I admired their business model, but no more. Netflix, you’re cashiered.

A real-life version of the house from Pixar’s movie Up has been built in Utah and is selling for $399,000. I guess it comes with a balloon mortgage.

In Chicago, there’s a public installation of a giant pair of legs and a windblown skirt, reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe’s gams in The Seven-Year Itch. When they install the top half, Sun Ming Ming is going to ask her out.

Worldwide Pants

2011-07-10T12:37:00.026-04:00

Did you see that Internet video where a python swallowed an alligator? (Warning: Ick!) http://www.bing.com/videos/watch/video/alligator-vs-python/px6l0lq Reminds me of the BSkyB – Murdoch deal.

Malaysian police released 1,697 people detained at a gathering to demand fair elections. Seems they ran out of those cool orange uniforms.

There’s a rumor floating that former Chinese president Jiang Zemin has died. Paging Saturday Night Live (see Wikipedia: Francisco_Franco_is_still_dead) Fun fact: Jiang liked to pull his pants all the way up to his chest. Might death have been caused by that Milhouse-killer, a calamitous wedgie?

Congratulations to Derek Jeter on hitting number 3,000. He told the YES Network, “Hitting a home run is the last thing I ever thought about.” Yeah; the last thing, the first thing and everything in between.

Here’s some not-really-news: it costs more to raise a child now than it did 50 years ago. And that doesn’t include the cost of eating out a parent’s kishkes.

Wedding bells: two Chihuahuas yelped I –doooooooooooooo in Chicago. Afterwards, they Said Yes To The Mess.

Looking for a Something in a '69 Tenderloin?

2009-09-28T12:01:00.005-04:00

I don't know if this strikes you funny, but today I noticed the following ad on the MSN.com home page: "Omaha Steaks clearance sale." What might that entail? A '69 Tenderloin; only one owner? A six-pack of burgers, gently used? I'm beginning to wonder what the term "aged beef" really means.

*

A man is suing Bank of America for $1.7 Billion Trillion. Gosh, that's almost their entire TARP allotment.

*
In New York, a Mexican food cart won the coveted Vendy award for the best street food. "Schnitzel and Things" was named Rookie of the Year. Next year, I'm pulling for "Truckin' with Turducken."

Blown Job: an Unemployment Odyssey

2008-12-20T17:33:00.013-05:00

Originally posted October 24, 2004

Two years and seven months ago, I was fired from my job; a casualty of the post-9/11 economic downturn. After 18 months of looking for work without success, I sat down to write a book, entitled, "Blown Job: an unemployment odyssey," my comic, sardonic take on a desperate situation. Turns out I had as much success tantalizing editorial agents as I did Human Resources directors. Rather than consign it to obscurity, I've decided to share my book with you, dear reader, in a series of excerpts, the first of which you will find below.

INTRODUCTION

On January 31, 2002, I was let go from a job I hated and probably would have died in, so I guess the bastards did me a favor. But it really doesn’t seem like that now, because I’ve been out of work for 18 months and my unemployment insurance is but a distant memory, and my savings have been vastly depleted and my COBRA health insurance is about to terminate and I haven’t had an interview in I can’t remember when and lately I’ve been thinking of doing myself in, though I need to do it cheaply because I’m on a budget.

But enough about me. I’ve written this book for you, one of the 9 million (and counting) unemployed Americans who share my pain. We’re a mighty big club without a clubhouse. We don’t have the clout of AARP, the aura of PETA, or the chutzpah of ACTUP. We’re men and women without a country, cast adrift in a world that used to make sense, with skills and experience that now lie dormant. We spend our days chasing a dream that used to be a right; the right to work in the land of opportunity. We’ve been forced to do things that humiliate us and set us back ten years in our careers and cause us to fight with our loved ones and embarrass our friends. We take what crumbs we can get and we feel grateful. Is this what we sat through Accounting 101 and read “What Color is Your Parachute” and watched “The Graduate” for? I don’t think so.

Are you as pissed off as I am about the way things have turned out? Of course you are. Well then, come with me, as I recount for you the odyssey of one unemployed woman in America in the 21st century. This story has all the elements of the Great American Novel – the flawed protagonist, the journey fraught with perils, the angst and pathos and bathos and quite a few other words that I don’t know the meaning of – without the happy ending. I invite you to laugh at the absurdity of my situation to ease the pain and bitterness and frustration of your own. And, if you’re reading this introduction, it means that I’m actually making some money now and all I have to worry about is that I can sell enough books to make back my fabulously generous advance. [ed. note: that's back when I thought this would be a trade paperback.] (Remember, though, as I’m writing these words, I’ve been unemployed for 18 months and my COBRA insurance is running out and my savings are vastly depleted, and you know the rest.)

Come along as I recount the embarrassment of working for two months at a job from which I’ve already been fired. Share with me the experience of going back into the classroom after decades away from attendance-taking and hand-raising. Chuckle at the humiliation of being interviewed by someone who wasn’t born until after “Rhoda” went off the air. Learn how looking for work can be your whole new career. And – this is really important – at the end of the last chapter, if you find that you like this book, I want you to do something for me. Write one of your own. Everybody who is unemployed in America should write a book and everyone else who is unemployed should buy it and read it. Look, we nine million have to support each other; we who are the charter members of the newest mega-association in the country.

Let’s get organized, people. I’ll start us out by giving our group a name: FEDUP, for Forced to Entertain DUmb Employment Possibilities. Okay, not so great, but we can work on it. Hey, it will give us something to do.

We’ll meet on Thursdays. You bring the Krispy Kremes.

(See Archives from October 2004 through January 2005 for Chapters 1 - 11.)

My First Task

2008-11-22T12:15:00.007-05:00

On my first day at Dunder Mifflin Binghamton, I was given the task of designing Jim and Pam's new home. This is what is looked like at the start:

This is what it looks like now. I think they'll love it!

If you're a fellow Dunder Mifflin employee, please vote for my task as your favorite. Even though I've only been a temp for one day, it is my desire to catapult out of the temp pool, into the warehouse, and straight up to the receptionist's desk. I can't wait to answer the phone, "Dunder Mifflin Binghamton!"

I'm Back!

2008-11-22T12:05:00.003-05:00

I am happy to report that I finally have landed a job. I am now working as a temp at the Binghamton branch of Dunder Mifflin. On my first day, I earned $1,160 Schrutebucks. I am so happy!

To those many readers who landed here by Googling "Chapter 6 Book of Job," I'm sorry you wound up with the sixth chapter of my manuscript, "Blown Job: An Unemployment Odyssey." Not quite what you were looking for, was it?

Chutzpah!

2006-05-20T21:09:00.000-04:00

*

Donald Trump wants a street in California named after him. And then he wants Earth renamed "Trumpsilvania."

*

From The New York Post: "A German gang stole hundreds of high-end BMWs and Benzes piece by piece over six years as they posed as assembly-line workers." Authorities were tipped off by their incessant whistling of the theme from "The Great Escape."

*

An Australian prankster tried to auction off New Zealand on eBay. The site canceled the transaction before Donald Trump had the chance to buy the country and rename it "Trumpghanistan."

Smell Ya Later

2006-05-14T18:44:00.000-04:00

*

To celebrate the brand's 50th anniversary, Play Doh is marketing a scent called, "eau-de-PLAY-DOH." Look for it at the Toys 'R Us fragrance counter, along with:

Monopolo

Nintendobsession

Eeewww! de Clue

Crayolanvin

Etch a Sketch – the Stench

G.I. JOOP!

Hungry Hungry Hipposies

Magic 8 Balenciaga

My Little PoNina Ricci

Tickle Me Elmoschino

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Oh, my!: no more Little Mermaid watches and plastic lions, tigers and bears with your Happy Meals. Disney has severed its promotional tie with McDonald's, so as not to bear the taint of childhood obesity. Good news for eau-de-PLAYDOH (and for these also-rans):

Sad-Eyed Children tattoos (first up: My Puppy Died!)

Spongebob Squarepants Sponge Bobbers

Children of the Corn collectibles

The Most Annoying Kids on TV key chains (first up: Ralph Wiggum)

Desperate Housewives Colorforms®

Special Delivery

2006-04-16T16:59:00.000-04:00

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A pregnant robot named Noelle is being used as a high-tech medical training tool. I think a good name for the baby would be Apple.

*

Remote Alaskan villages are now enjoying pizza, thanks to air delivery service. And if the pizza doesn't arrive in thirty hours, it's free.

Reindeer pizza is popular, but don't you just hate it when the hoof sticks to the roof of your mouth?

*

Insert Title Here

2006-04-10T00:00:00.000-04:00

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In Washington State, the government tried to confiscate the gold tooth caps of two drug dealers, claiming the caps were seizable assets. This must be what's meant by a "cavity search."

*

Some enterprising scammer in Indiana tried to palm off an oven door as a flat screen TV. Worse, it only played the Food Network.

Activate Me Vertically

2006-04-08T14:45:00.000-04:00

*

The Rolling Stones risqué lyrics have been censored during their concert tour of China. Concertgoers are rocking to:

Let's Spend a Lovely Evening Together and Then I'll Take You Home

Brown Splenda

Empathy for the Mischievous Sprite

May I Have a Room for the Night?

You Cannot Always Obtain What is Desired

Activate Me Vertically

Tawdry Nightclub Women

I Cannot Acquire Any Bliss

*

Steven Spielberg has joined the reality TV pantheon with a new show called, "On the Lot," a "Star Search" for new filmmakers. Celebrity judges: E.T., one Animaniac, two Goonies, and the Gremlin that looks like Miles Davis.

*

The Red Cross is undergoing a major overhaul. Its new name is "The Organization Formally Known as the Red Cross."

*

Shades of Wallace and Gromit: an enormous rabbit is tearing up vegetable gardens in England. It's a case of life imitating artichokes.

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In Wisconsin, a man was convicted for stealing hundreds of pairs of panties. He maintains he's been thongly accused.

Caveat Emptor

2006-03-26T16:57:00.000-05:00

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A Picasso bought at Costco may be a forgery. Worse, the Rice Krispies in Aisle 79 are said to be devoid of krackle.

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A new book is coming out by Johnny Cash's first wife. Likely title: Cashin' In.

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California vintners are pitching wine to men. I can see it now: Manischewitz and a Manwich – the nosh of champions.

The Secret of My Deferred Success

2005-11-20T13:10:00.000-05:00

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A new list of politically correct terms from Global Language Monitor includes "deferred success" as a euphemism for "failure" and "misguided criminals" for "terrorists." I propose the following additions:

spouse-free – single

overnourished – obese

looksless -- ugly

uniformed tourists – US military

bleach bums – scandal-ridden actresses

loss leader – President Bush

21st Century Atlantis – New Orleans

accidental tourists – New Orleans' homeless

waterfront property – the entire state of Florida

Yahoo Sirius – Howard Stern

A law firm was chastised by the Florida Supreme Court for using a pit bill in its ads; the Court opining that the ads demean lawyers. The firm's attorneys were ordered to attend an advertising ethics workshop, which they will do as soon as somebody figures out how to run one.

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A square-inch parcel of land is for sale on eBay. Possible bidders: Tiny Tim, Tom Thumb, and the Little Mermaid.

*

Ex-madam Heidi Fleiss plans to open a brothel in Nevada that caters to women. Possible names:

Bed Bath and Be Comped

Boy Toys are Us

Abercrombie & Switch

Amazon.wom.en

eBoy

It's a Grand Old World

2005-10-29T10:38:00.000-04:00

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Brooke Shields is having another baby. Do I smell another bestseller?

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Sylvester Stallone is preparing to shoot Rambo IV and Rocky VI. Pray with me now that he's not considering "Oscar II," in which he would reprise the role of "Angelo 'Snaps' Provolone." (Check out the scintillating dialogue from Oscar.)

*

A former head of a Kansas space museum is on trial for profiting from the trade of museum artifacts. Purportedly among the trades was a 2002 Yurchikhin for a 1983 Bobko.

*

An Asian rebel group, the Tamil Tigers, is seeking a catchy national anthem. How about:

I'm a Tamil Doodle Dandy

When Selvathurai Comes Marching Home Again

From the Halls of Ambalangoda to the Shores of Tissamaharama

You're a Grand Old Kalashnikov

*

Connecticut's liquor board wants to ban the sale of "Seriously Bad Elf" holiday beer because children might be enticed to drink. If they do, they'll be known as "Santa's Little Gulpers."

*

A family living in the Road to Nowhere housing development near the Arctic Circle is getting government aid for their home, which is routinely buried by snow every year. Here's an idea – why not move to the Road to Something Approaching Civilization Condominiums?

*

In Rome, goldfish bowls are now banned. Coincidentally, the sale of goldfish leashes has gone through the roof.

Get Smart

2005-10-23T12:16:00.000-04:00

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In Australia, a man who lay dead in his car was given a parking ticket. And when they came to take him away, he was slapped with a moving violation.

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A Wal-Mart heiress returned her college diploma after being accused of cheating. She allegedly paid her roommate $20,000 to write her term papers, which apparently is the every-day low price for such transactions.

*

A top ad executive was forced to resign after saying that women don't make it to the top of advertising because they're "crap" and further, that they are ''a group that will inevitably wimp out and go 'suckle something.''' His favorite pick-up line must be "Got Milk?"

I Can't Think of a Title

2005-10-13T16:51:00.000-04:00

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A bowl of noodles 4,000 years old has been found in China. And we're worried about Styrofoam decomposing?

*

The Wall Street Journal will be reducing its page size to cut costs. It will now be known as "The Wall Street Shopper."

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An Arkansas woman gave birth to her 16th child and she's not done yet. All 16 have names that begin with the letter "J." The 17th will be known as "Jeez, just give it a rest!"

Picture This!

2005-10-13T13:55:00.000-04:00

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To counter vandalism, Italy may replace famous works of Florentine art with replicas. Next time you're there, be sure to stop and see the Larry David.

*

At the International Tattoo Convention in London, one proponent was heard to remark, "Getting a brand name tattooed on your face is an insult to the values that tattoos really represent." Values like Mom and .

Oh, to be in England!

2005-10-08T22:22:00.000-04:00

*

In London, they've come up with a code of conduct for Santa Claus:

cannot wear red suit to Target store openings

must comb the Weetabix crumbs out of one's beard before every appearance

may not use elves for heavy lifting or construction of an in-ground pool

must pleasure Mrs. Claus prior to departure on eve of December 24th

must be vigilant about scooping up reindeer droppings

must periodically check naughty/nice list; update accordingly

December 26: dry-clean suit; give elves bonus; sort through cookie gifts and discard those with protruding nails

*

They're certainly busy with important matters in London. Now they're looking for the ugliest vegetable, in a year-long competition. Does Camilla qualify?

Here She Is, Miss 45879

2005-10-01T14:33:00.000-04:00

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A bookmaker in Ireland has come under fire for an billboard depicting figures in DaVinci's The Last Supper as gamblers. In the same spirit, watch for Mona Lisa – the Ultimate Poker Face.

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The Danish Air Force will pay $5,000 to a professional Santa, one of whose reindeer was frightened to death by a fighter jet's roar. What's worse, the offending pilot now must emblazon the word "Naughty" on his epaulets.

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A prison in Peru held a beauty pageant. The winner of the talent competition swallowed 46 balloons of cocaine in 55 seconds while playing "Lady of Spain" on the accordion.

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Japan's Nissan Motors has developed an egg-shaped concept car that may revolutionize parking. They're calling it "Pivo." Couldn't they come up with a catchier name, like...

Embrio

Omeletta

Scrambelle

Meringue

Volvomelette

Very bad, sir

2005-09-27T14:16:00.000-04:00

Sad to report, Jeeves has been axed as the mascot of the search engine, “Ask Jeeves.” Now, instead of answering questions, here are some of the questions Jeeves may be asking, as he faces a new job -- or no job:

You want fries with that?

Fill ‘er up?

Paper or plastic?

Ketchup or mustard?

What floor?

Spare some change?

Got milk?

A Dash of Special Flavor Sauce

2005-09-10T14:40:00.000-04:00

*

This from Reuters:

"The cat is out of the bag at a restaurant in northeast China that had been serving donkey meat spiked with tiger urine in pricey dishes advertised as endangered Siberian tigers."

" ...the so-called tiger meat was donkey meat that had been dressed with tiger urine to give the dish a 'special flavor.' "

Diners should have been tipped off by the menu listings:

Endangered Siberian Tiger (not really) with udon(key)

Moo shu Ass (w/ 4 barf bags)

Peking Ass

Crispy "Shrimp" in Tiger Urine

Won ton don(key) soup

General Tso's Ass in "Special Flavor" sauce

Vodka mar-tinkle

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An American is paying $20 million to visit the international space station. Can't wait for the movie version: "If It's Tuesday, It Must Be Rigel 7."

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A German brewer has concocted what he claims to be the world's strongest beer. It probably will be known as "the beer that made Garmisch-Partenkirchen famous."

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British scientists say that crime dramas like "CSI" are helping crooks to become better criminals by revealing the secrets of forensic science. If only the shows could help actors to become better actors.

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To curtail the drop-out rate, one high school in Australia is offering a course in surfing. Think grad schools will soon grant doctorates in boogie boarding?

Pass the Belly Rolls

2005-09-05T01:15:00.000-04:00

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Dieters are turning to hypnosis to help keep the pounds off. Think about it: not only will you crave healthy food like chicken, you'll also be able to cluck like one.

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In San Diego, a topless dancer stabbed a customer who refused a lap dance. She'll now be billed as the "psychotic exotic dancer."

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A woman in Germany burned her house down while trying to kill spiders with a can of hairspray and a cigarette lighter. Wonder if she plants land mines to get rid of weeds.

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Some poor guy got fired because he ate two pieces of pizza left over after a company meeting. The infraction must be listed in the company handbook as "Get the gate. It's Domino's."

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An art student in Thailand creates edible bread sculptures that resemble human body parts. You haven't lived till you've tried:

Peanut butter and jelly on a belly

Bacon, lettuce and toe-mato on thigh

Hand and swiss

Head cheese

Club-foot sandwich

Stars and Hypes

2005-08-27T11:01:00.000-04:00

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Paul Newman and Robert Redford may team up for a third movie. Possible titles?:

The Funeral Crashers

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Septuagenarian

All the Gerontologist's Men

The Way We Were

The 80-Year Old Virgin

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Slovenly druggie Chris Farley just got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Why don't they just call it the Walk of Infamy?

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A Budapest mayor wants female staffers to wear miniskirts only if they have "completely perfect legs." What a completely perfect ass.

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Zookeepers in China are trying to convince a chimpanzee to stop smoking. Maybe they can get him into a support group with Joe Camel.

Today's Monologue

2005-08-21T01:59:00.000-04:00

*

There's a new line of greeting cards for lovers having extramarital affairs. It must look something like this:

I hope you don't mind my asking, but...
...did I leave my panties in your glove compartment?

Y You rock my world...
...especially in Room 426 of the Starlight Motel.

Let's fall in love...J
...next Thursday at 2:00 in the back seat of your Miata.

You are the sunshine of my life...
...but please pretend you don't know me at the next PTA meeting.

*

Martha Stewart's new TV show will have a short, punchy title. I wonder if it's 55170-174! (her inmate ID number.)

*

A farmer looking for love harvested a personal ad made entirely of corn stalks in his pasture. Don't ask what he's planning to do with the cucumbers.

*

Speaking of farming, this winter in Russia, cows will be fed confiscated marijuana. Talk about contented cows! I guess they'll only be producing "high"-fat milk from now on.

*

I think it's nice that a couple decided to get married at the drive-thru window of a McDonald's. But will the groom live up to the nickname, "Big Mac?"

*

The ashes of journalist Hunter S. Thompson were blasted into the sky as part of a memorial tribute. Now he's gonzo far away.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Melon Day

2005-08-14T18:45:00.001-04:00

*

A CD of Bill Clinton's favorite tunes will go on sale next month. I wonder if it will include such hits as:

Devil With the Blue Dress On
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
Hungry Heart
I Wish I Were in Love Again
I Got a Woman
I Got a Woman
I Got a Woman

*

Happy Melon Day! That's what you should say to anyone you know who lives in Turkmenistan, because the country's leader declared Sunday to be Melon Day. Better yet, say, Casaba nice day!

A Riot of the Senses

2005-08-13T19:55:00.000-04:00

*

In a Hong Kong eating contest, a man swallowed 83 dumplings in 8 minutes. Oddly enough, 10 minutes later, he was hungry again.

*

A bigamist was outed when his three wives all showed up at the same time to visit him in the hospital. He's in for a triple bypass, when he's discharged, it'll be for a triple divorce.

*

The rector at St. Patrick's Cathedral resigned over allegations that he's been conducting an affair with his female assistant. Suggested headline: "Rector's Erection Wrecks Rectory."

*

As part of an anti-smoking program, scent strips reeking of tobacco are being inserted into fashion magazines, just like the promos that run in perfume ads. Cigarettes and fragrance – hmmm—imagine the spin:

Kool Water

True Love

Old Gold and White Diamonds

More Beautiful

Nicotine Obsession

Chesterfield of Flowers

Poison

It's NOT That Easy Being Green

2005-08-12T00:34:00.000-04:00

Well, here I am, two days after I lost all the customization of my blog, and I'm still working on the restoration. Of course, I haven't been at it steadily – I stopped to go to work; to sleep; to eat; to watch The Simpsons, King of Queens, and Family Guy; and to tweeze my eyebrows. I'm about 95% there. I just have to restore my META tags, which (as my one fan in cyberspace may recall from META Madness) proved to be endless fun the first time around.

During a pause in my blog labor, I read an article today online at CNN.com about a new study indicating that website appearance is a factor in attracting male or female readers. Apparently, women like pages with color in the background and typeface. Well, that certainly is true in my case.

The whole reason I screwed up my blog in the first place is that I wanted to change the color scheme. My template was rather a rather boring grey-and-maroon affair, and I wanted to go with a green ambience. As you can see, it's now a festival of green. Problem was, I couldn't choose a new template without losing all of the customized links and changes I'd made in the past nine months. I'm fairly certain that isn't how it was supposed to work, but I went ahead and chose Rounders 4, and voilà, all my links disappeared. At 5:30 AM, I wasn't thinking too clearly, and I ignored the warning indicating that I was about to step into the abyss. I cursed for two hours straight, relying at first on the tried-and-true imprecations in a mélange of languages, and at the last, coining some new words which, sadly, I can no longer remember.

Interestingly, that new study on the attractiveness of web pages also indicates, according to the CNN.com report, that men "responded better to dark colors and straight, horizontal lines across a page. They also were more pleased by a three-dimensional look and images of "self-propelling" rather than stationary objects."

Huh? "Self-propelling?" Can anyone tell me what that means? How does an object self-propel across a web page? I know for sure that I don't have any self-propelling objects on my page, but I'm not at all worried about attracting men to my blog. Lots and lots of men have visited Does This Look Funny to You? and will continue to do so, every time they type "blow job" into Google. My blog, you see, contains all the chapters of my magnum opus, Blown Job: an Unemployment Odyssey. Blow job, blown job – Google doesn't care. It's not set up to make the distinction between a book title and a sex act. The poor suckers (you should pardon the expression) who hope to find some hot pictures or dirty words here wind up instead with a humorous account of my 3-1/2 year bout of miserable unemployment. Blown Job Blown Job Blown Job. (Just got three more visitors.)

Bottom line is, if you're reading this, I don't care which sex you are. I'm just glad you came. (Not that "came," silly.)

I have to take my leave now and go type funny humor comedy unemployment employment one-liners funny working laughter comedy articles columns funny into my template so the search engines can find me again. One last thing, guys and gals: I hope you like this color scheme, 'cause I'm never changing it again.

Oops!

2005-08-09T19:35:00.000-04:00

I screwed up my blog. I couldn't sleep, so at 5:30 AM, I decided to change my template to a new look. Well, it looks new, but I lost all of my links and customization. I hate MSN, Blogger, and the woman whose book suggested changing my template for a new look. You know who you are.

Touching Stories

2005-08-07T17:02:00.000-04:00

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A New York City politician is throwing an erotic fundraiser. Kind of gives new meaning to the term, “pressing the flesh.”

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A man is going to prison for sexually assaulting a sleeping woman seated next to him in an airplane. What a first-class asshole.

*
Macintosh just introduced a multi-button mouse. The gang in Redmond rallied to invent the same thing pronto, until they realized that, for once, they’re ahead of the curve.

*

In Oregon, a high school football coach has been reprimanded for licking the bleeding wounds of his players. Bet he douses the winners with Sangria instead of Gatorade.

*

Google is looking for a chef for its headquarters restaurant. Hot tip: incumbent must know how to make moo google gai pan.

Equal Time

2005-07-31T01:28:00.000-04:00

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The returns department of a home products company in Vermont received an unwanted trimming device – and 5 kittens accidentally packed with the product. I guess that's what happens when you shop by cat-alogue.

*

This summer in sweltering Vienna, Austria, museum visitors are welcome to view art in the nude. My question is, where do they clip the little round buttons?

*

Scientists have discovered a 10th planet. Likely name: Goofy.

*

A toothless man in Brazil stole seven toothbrushes from a supermarket, thus proving the old adage that tooth is stranger than fiction.

*

Austria again – Diners went ballistic when they saw a 10-foot python slithering across the floor of a pizza restaurant, causing the owners to eighty-six the test-marketing of the Big Crust Pizza-Py-thon.

A Fish Tale

2005-07-17T19:45:00.000-04:00

Last week, I went to the aquarium. Here are some pictures I took.

Miscellany

2005-07-17T19:31:00.000-04:00

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Kentucky is eliminating its smiley face license plates, complete with the motto: "Kentucky: It's that friendly." Possible replacement: a set of false teeth and the phrase, "Kentucky: Bite Me."

*

Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, is to receive her own coat of arms. Reportedly, it's a cheap cloth coat crossed with a tampon and a silly hat.

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Disneyland celebrates its 50th anniversary today. And, on schedule, Mickey received his first letter from AARP.

Loony Toons

2005-06-26T13:50:00.000-04:00

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A South Korean baseball player wore frozen cabbage leaves in his cap during a game to keep his head cool. (Cabbage is the main ingredient in the popular Korean dish, kimchi.) If this catches on in the States, we soon may be reading about the Kimchicago Cubs.

*

Vanna White, who became famous for turning over letters on "Wheel of Fortune," is getting a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame. It's believed that the real Hollywood stars immortalized on the Walk are turning over in their graves.

*

A new study reveals that people are more likely to achieve orgasm when they leave their socks on. Kind of gives new meaning to the word, "football."

*

Sesame Street is producing a line of adult loungewear and fashion accessories. What's next? "Bert and Ernie's"MetrosexuALphabet Soup?"

*

Disney executives consulted feng shui experts before opening their Hong Kong park. The results: Donald Duck and Winnie the Pooh wear hip-huggers. The Three Little Pigs are known as "Moo Shu Pork." And Buzz Lightyear travels only as far as infinity.

An Appreciation, of Sorts

2005-06-18T18:25:00.000-04:00

Y

When you don't have a father anymore, those ads that feature handsome, prematurely grey-haired men shilling ties and shirts and cufflinks while toting an adorable blonde moppet in each arm really can be annoying. Not that I ever paid attention to them, even when my father was alive, because he wasn't a shirt-and-tie-and-cufflink kind of guy. It wasn't easy to find a Father's Day present for him. He didn't read anything except the newspaper. His sport was limited to trudging up four flights of stairs, every day for sixty years. He didn't own a car. He didn't drink fine wines or smoke foreign cigars. So I was pretty much limited to buying him handkerchiefs, 'cause he did blow his nose, and socks, 'cause he did wear shoes, and bathrobes, because he did bathe, except for the last three years of his life, when that chore became my responsibility.

For the past year, I've been trying to remember the things I loved about my father. It's been difficult, because in the last few years of his life, when he decided to stop living, he made my life hell on earth. I won't go into detail, because this is not a memoir. I hate memoirs. The first one I read was Angela's Ashes. I couldn't believe how someone could expose to the world (and profit from) the failings of his parents; an alcoholic father and a mother so ill-prepared for motherhood that she should have been sterilized instead of popping out babes as if on schedule.

That bestseller spawned an avalanche of crappy books about people who were famous for 15 seconds; a phenomenon with no apparent end. So this isn't a memoir, which, as I believe I said, I hate. I just want to recognize my father on Father's Day, because I can't send him a card or buy him a lottery ticket any more. He used to like when I did that. He always was so hopeful that he would win. Once, he won $863, which, to him, after decades of tearing up stubs, was like winning a million bucks. We went up to the lottery office in World Trade Center, where he proceeded to make a scene because I didn't have a black pen in my pocketbook. It had to be black, and I carried only green. I begged a woman to lend me hers, just to shut him up. Kind of took the thrill out of the occasion.

He possessed a volcanic temper and a sparkling sense of humor, either of which could materialize with no apparent impetus. This was his legacy to me. He didn't say funny things as much as he said things funny. Once, he told me a story about two fellows he knew, who he referred to as "what's-his-name and the other one." In thirty seconds, I knew who he was talking about. We got each other. I'll never have a relationship like that again.

Tomorrow, I'm going to watch a video of "The Bank Dick." It was one of his favorites. He loved Fields and the brothers Marx and Gleason and the great old character actors of sixty years ago; a time when people could act and movies were interesting. I'm going to prop his picture up in front of the television, so he can watch the movie with me. Crazy? – perhaps. But if I didn't believe that he's in the room with me, or that I'll ever see him again, I couldn't keep going. So, Happy Father's Day, Dad. Love from your sweetheart. Y

Does This Look Punny to You?

2005-06-11T10:59:00.000-04:00

*

There's a proposal afoot to sell advertising space on pro basketballers' uniforms. What kind of Jazz is that? There aren't enough Hawks on the court already? Someone should have Piston this idea from the get-go. It's sure to stir up a Hornet's nest. Commissioner David Stern will take the Heat for this. I don't know about you, but I think the idea is total Bulls-hit.

*

A couple married on top of Mount Everest. Their vows included a promise to "love, honor, and resuscitate."

*

McDonald's is now featuring a fit, athletic Ronald McDonald in its ads. He's probably eating at Subway.

*

In Japan, house cats peed on their owner's fax machine, which shorted out and set the house on fire. Poor pussies; you're in trouble now. (Get it?)

*

In Nigeria, police arrested a cow who killed one man and injured several others. The cow probably will be tried in moot court.

*

Madonna is planning a Kaballah-themed hotel in London. Possible name: Ka-Bally's.

Eat, Drink, and Be Nutty - 2

2005-05-30T01:32:00.000-04:00

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A doctor sold answers to a board certification exam on eBay. He's described as a rectal specialist – no surprise there.

*

A new restaurant chain will provide video games at every booth. What might they call it?:

Grand Theft Automat

Xbox Lunch

Dragon Questerant

And on the menu...:

Mortal Kombat-ter-dipped Chicken

Super Mariomelette

Madden NFLbow macaroni

Halo-Mein

Wheel of Fortune Cookies

Nintendoughnuts

*

A New Yorker has made it his mission to hit 1,000 bars in a year and— surprise—he's started a blog to chronicle his journey. I guess you could call him a "Coors-pondent."

Eat, Drink, and Be Nutty

2005-05-29T11:44:00.000-04:00

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North Korea has developed a candy made of seaweed, beans, carrots and sesame seeds that promises to help children grow taller and smarter. A good name for it would be, "I Can't Believe it's Not Chocolate!"

*

A 24-hour suicide hotline in Canada, citing high costs, is limiting its service to business hours. It will now be known as the "suicide lukewarm line."

*

A record-setting 124-pound catfish died while being transported to an aquarium, where he was to be displayed. He'll always be known as "the one that passed away."

*

"Alexander" director Oliver Stone was arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol. Wonder if this will delay plans for the sequel, "Brandy Alexander."

*

Donald Trump is starting an online learning institution, Trump University. Sign up early for what promises to be the most popular courses in business ("Introduction to Macroegonomics") and construction ("How to Nail a Supermodel.")

Sunday Funnies

2005-05-22T13:14:00.000-04:00

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An exhibitor at New York's first Erotic Expo said he seeks approval for his sex-related products from a medical school's industrial review board. That would likely be Hardwood Medical School.

*

Comedian Ray Romano (late of "Everybody Loves Raymond") says he's finished with sitcoms, but there may be a spinoff in the works for his series brother, Robert. Possible titles?:

Let's Milk This For All It's Worth

The Incredible Sulk

Holy Crap – it's Robert!

Cops and Robert

Everybody is Ambivalent about Robert

The Other Brother

How High the Goon

*

A lawyer in California moonlights as a porn star. He especially enjoys filing his briefs.

The Lively Arts

2005-05-17T22:09:00.000-04:00

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A truck driver stole a painting worth $1.5 million. He was caught on videotape AND he left behind a copy of his driver's license. When nabbed, he claimed he didn't know what was in the container, even though it was clearly labeled, "PAINTING." Now, he's in a big building clearly labeled "JAIL."

*

Saddam Hussein is writing his memoirs. Wonder if he'll "dictate" them. Possible titles?:

All My Sons are Terrorists

The Five People You Meet in Prison

Say "Aaaahh"

The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Mass Murderers

Oh, the Places I've Bombed!

Tuesdays With Qusay

Mash Notes

2005-05-17T06:53:00.000-04:00

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I saw an ad today that said, "Your dream home is waiting for you in Florida." Florida? As in Hurricane Central? A better tagline would be, "Your dream home is wading for you in Florida."

*

An appeals court ruled that a woman is not legally responsible for fracturing her boyfriend's penis during sex, a maneuver we'll call the "mashonary position."

*

The city of Las Vegas created a 130,000 pound birthday cake to commemorate its 100th anniversary. For the candles, they melted down a wax figure of Kirstie Alley.

*

A man was found wandering a beach in England, well-dressed, soaking wet, and totally uncommunicative. At the hospital, he gave a masterful piano performance. Requests included "Somewhere Beyond the Sea," "I Cover the Waterfront," and "She Wore an Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini."

Fa-sheezy

2005-05-15T12:35:00.000-04:00

Famously unmarried Jennifer Wilbanks has inspired the marketing of ''Jennifer's High Tailin' Hot Sauce'' and a Runaway Bride action figure. What's next? Glad you asked:

From Gown to Town: a snap-on wedding dress that converts to a chic summer suit.

Steak or Fish To Go!: wedding dinner take-out.

Band on the Run: a CD of first dance tunes, such as "Because You Loved Me," "When a Man Loves a Woman," and "Where is the Love?"

The Wedding Ring Toss game.

Bachelor Beer: the preferred drink of jilted fiancés.

*

At a tattoo convention in New York, artists agreed that their clientele has gone mainstream. True it may be, but I think it's a little much when your kid's teacher sports a tat on her bicep that reads, "åMother Goose".

*

Time is hipper than I thought. A headline on the mag's website reads, "A rapper who can actually act, Mos Def is the definitive master of the post-bling vibe," whatever that means. I understand they're thinking of changing their masthead to read:

Time. It's the Bomb. Fa sheezy.

You Want Pineapple with That?

2005-05-14T13:54:00.000-04:00

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A man in a white mini skirt was accused of exposing himself. How crazy is that? Everyone knows you don't wear white until after Memorial Day.

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Robin Williams is suing a celebrity impersonator. Bigfoot had no comment.

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Woody Allen wants to shoot his next movie in Spain. Possible title?: Zabar-celona.

*

In Australia, a prison hostage-taking ended with a pizza delivery. Hope they got the toppings right.

*

The University of California at Berkeley has banned alcohol at frat parties. Talk about Hell week.

Monologue of the Day

2005-05-07T18:57:00.000-04:00

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Nelson Mandela is trying to protect his name from those who want to use it commercially. Are you ready for Mandelager beer, Mandelacrosse sticks, and Mandelatkes?

*
Some wag carved an image of runaway bride Jennifer Wilbanks on a piece of toast and auctioned it on eBay. I just wish people would realize that eBay is for serious auctioneers – like the woman who put up her father's ghost and the guy who sold himself as ad space .

*

Three doctors in New York are in hot water for illegally prescribing large amounts of Viagra and other drugs to the mob. One mobster even requested a Lipitor prescription for his barber. The final straw must have been all the Prozac scrips for the hit men.

*
In San Francisco, sex workers took classes in business ethics and career satisfaction, earning diplomas as GSW's, Graduates in Sex Work. They crammed for the final all night long.

*

From the AP: "A man on his way out of the hospital ended up back inside after his mother hit him with her car when she came to pick him up." Her Mother's Day present? A restraining order!

Jump for Joy

2005-04-30T20:00:00.001-04:00

*

In Peru, officials rescued thousands of frogs that were destined to be ingredients in popular drinks. Sound intriguing? Then try these delicious concoctions:

Kermit Colada, a refreshing mix of tree frog and Jamaican rum.

Green Light, a blend of pureed frog and Amstel Light. And my personal favorite,

Johnny Walker Green.

*

A car that may once have been owned by the man who is now the pope is for sale on eBay. The ownership is pretty much confirmed by the bumper sticker, which reads, "I Y Jesus."

That and This

2005-04-26T22:02:00.000-04:00

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Did you see the picture of President Bush holding hands with Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah? Think they'll soon be double dating with Elton John and his squeeze?

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In one high school in Georgia, snitching on classmates earns students cash prizes. The school mascot must be a canary.

*

This and That

2005-04-24T16:50:00.000-04:00

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Pope Benedict XVI received more than 56,000 e-mails in two days. Twelve of them were congratulatory, 2,000 asked if he was satisfied with his car insurance, and 54,000 offered to sell him Viagra.

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A portrait of William Shakespeare, originally thought to have been painted during his lifetime, turns out to be a fraud. Must have been the Kiss Me Kate poster in the background that gave it away.

*

Zoo Stories

2005-04-23T12:22:00.000-04:00

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A zoo in South Africa wants its chimp to stop smoking. To that end, they've obtained a restraining order against Joe Camel.

*

In Tel Aviv, zookeepers are feeding their animals matzoh for Passover. I wonder – will the parrot be asking the four questions during the seder?

*

A Myanmar woman is breastfeeding tiger cubs who were rejected by their mother. The mandrill and the dingo are demanding equal time.

You Can't Eat Just One

2005-04-09T05:22:00.000-04:00

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A woman accused of killing and cannibalizing her boyfriend has been freed. Presumably, fiancé frittatas and boyfriend fries are off the menu.

*

Sesame Street's Cookie Monster is cutting back on tasty treats, advocating "A Cookie is a Sometimes Food," in a health pitch aimed at children. The Street's getting mean – Big Bird and Miss Piggy have taken to stashing their snacks in Oscar's garbage can.

*

The woman who found a finger in her Wendy's chili has a history of lawsuits, including one against another restaurant. I mean, really – what can you expect when you order leg of lamb, an ear of corn and elbow macaroni?

Calling All Cadavers

2005-04-03T18:09:00.000-04:00

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The BBC requested an interview with Jamaican reggae singer Bob Marley – 24 years after he died. Who says the Beeb isn't on top of things? They're probably still waiting to hear back from Francisco Franco, Jimmy Hoffa, and Amelia Earhart.

*

Heard about Burger King's new Enormous Omelet Sandwich, laden with a whopping 730 calories? When ordering one, you'll likely be asked, "You want a defibrillator with that?"

*

An erotic festival in Manchester, England closed, due to lack of interest by men – though their women were game. Organizers said the disappointed ladies were "under the thumb" of their partners; a posture which now will be known as the "Manchester position."

It's 12:30 AM and this is all I got

2005-03-28T00:23:00.000-05:00

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A man emptied his apartment by tossing everything out of his 35th floor window. He should be charged with a moving violation.

Eat at Your Own Risk

2005-03-24T11:18:00.000-05:00

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A Wendy’s diner bit into a human finger hidden in a bowl of chili. I think they can spin this into a new ad campaign: “Try our chili – now with calluses!”

*

Those wacky scientists at MIT invented an alarm clock for super-sleepers, called “Clocky.” When you hit “snooze,” the clock falls off the table and wheels itself around the room. The idea is that you jump out of bed to turn it off, effectively rousing you from slumber. I have a better way to silence it: a little gun, called “Glocky.”

*

An intoxicated driver blamed his condition on eating too many liqueur-filled chocolates; a defense that will henceforth be known as an “act of Godiva.”

*

A Spaniard whose winning lottery ticket was mangled in a washing machine will be allowed to collect the prize. This must be what is meant by “money laundering.”

*

Scientists in India have created tea in pill form. Be sure to take it with a crumpet capsule.

Did You Miss Me?

2005-03-13T08:37:00.000-05:00

If anyone cares, I'm still here. I lost my sense of humor; temporarily, I hope. You be the judge. Well, maybe not this week.

*

Scientists at Dartmouth College have pinpointed the site in the brain where familiar tunes are stored. I have two questions: (1) is there an operation to remove Mongo Jerry's "In the Summertime" from my head and (2) don't these guys have anything better to do?

*

General Mills inked a deal to make Wheaties the official breakfast cereal of Major League Baseball. I envision specially marked Jose Canseco boxes with a surprise inside: the official steroid of Major League Baseball.

*

In England, the candy maker Mars is cutting 700 jobs and ceasing production of Twix bars. What's next? A pink slip for the purple M&M?

*

Sixty-year old Rod Stewart got down on one knee to propose to his 33-year old fiancé. She accepted. And then she helped him up.

*

Sudanese officials were alarmed to read that nuclear tests took place in their country. Turns out, a US stenographer mistakenly typed "Sudan," instead of "Sedan," a site in Nevada. I guess that worker will soon be hired – oops, I mean, fired.

*

They say that first-born children are smarter than their younger siblings. That will come as no surprise to my big brother, Whatshisname.

Booze, Sex, and Herring

2005-02-12T00:51:00.000-05:00

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A flock of birds got drunk on berries and flew smack into the glass of an office building. It just goes to show, birds of a feather get crocked together.

*

According to a survey by career publisher Vault, 58% of respondents have been involved with a co-worker; 23% of whom have done "it" in the restroom, elevator, or conference room. I'd stick a napkin underneath that meeting agenda, if I were you.

*

A man was stabbed and five others were injured in a mob scene at a midnight store opening of a new Ikea in London. All this for furniture you have to put together yourself and matjesfiléer on knäckerbröd?

*

An English bride-to-be has chosen her dog to be her bridesmaid. Well, at least the pooch can go wide when she tosses the bouquet.

The Body Eclectic

2005-02-09T01:11:00.000-05:00

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A woman with two uteruses gave birth to twin boys two months apart. Actually, it worked out pretty well, because the younger one is already wearing his older brother's hand-me-downs.

*

Sarah Jessica Parker is launching a new scent, as yet unnamed. I think they should call it "Overexposed."

*

Former fur-wearer Dennis Rodman is appearing nude, bedecked only in tattoos, in new ads from PETA. I guess they've gone from intimidating fur-lovers to simply making them nauseous.

*

A McDonald's patron was fined $600 for hurling an Egg McMuffin at a cashier. Lucky he didn't lob one of those 3-for-a-buck chocolate-chip cookies – he could have brained her.

Bada-Bing

2005-01-31T23:23:00.000-05:00

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A New York cabbie is doing double duty as a matchmaker for passengers seeking meaningful relationships. Hey, why not; all's fare in love and war.

*

The basic cable station A&E has won the right to broadcast "The Sopranos" in edited form. Each episode will last 30 seconds. And when Tony grabs his paper from the driveway, he'll be wearing an overcoat.

*

A buffalo escaped from an auction and wound up in an arena dressing room. A horse broke free and roamed a supermarket. Honestly, how are you gonna to keep them down on the farm, after they've seen the A&P?

It's 3:00 AM and I Can't Think of a Title

2005-01-28T03:00:00.001-05:00

*

A woman arrested for driving drunk said she downed three glasses of Listerine. Is Listerine the new Grey Goose? How 'bout:

Listerine and milk, otherwise known as "Baby's Breath."

Listerine and Scope, or "Crème de Menthol"

Orange juice and Listerine, as in "Bartender, I'll have a "Tangerine."

*

They say 40,000 parasites and 250 types of bacteria are exchanged during a French kiss. Maybe that loser you're dating really is the scum of the earth. Bring on the Listerine!

*

Did you hear about the guy who's selling ad space on his body, in the form of tattoos? I wouldn't be surprised if the Burger King logo, "Have it Your Way" winds up on his privates.

*

Dutch authorities are allowing a bank robber to claim the cost of the gun used during stickups as a legitimate business expense for tax purposes. What's next? Listing his mask as a clothing allowance?

*

Ringo Starr has teamed up with Stan Lee to star as an animated superhero with a secret power. Must be the ability to resurrect his career in a single bound.

*

A woman in Brazil gave birth to a 16-pound baby. Instead of formula, they're feeding him Slim-Fast.

Here's to Johnny

2005-01-24T05:02:00.000-05:00

A sad day today. A great man has passed.

I feel sorry for anyone who isn't old enough to remember Johnny; who isn't old enough to remember laughing oneself silly from 11:30 til 1:00, Monday through Friday, in the days before Johnny discovered the virtue of long vacations. And even when he was away, it was always a treat to see a brilliant guest host, like Jerry Lewis, or Bob Newhart, or another king of comedy. It was okay, because you knew Johnny was coming back, and you had something to look forward to.

Comedy died when Johnny left television, just like music died when Frank left the world. You may think you're seeing comedy when someone recites a random string of dirty words, or describes the anatomy of his squeeze, but that, my friends, is not comedy. Comedy is clever, and it requires thought, and it's concise, and it makes a point. Rent a video of one of Johnny's old shows, and you'll see comedy. Not in the sketches, which were his tribute to vaudeville; something easy and cheap. No, Johnny's comedy was in the monologue, and in the banter with his colleagues and guests, and in the seemingly innocent hosting of people who brought to the stage recalcitrant animals and preserved potato chips and wayward tomahawks. Johnny was a genius; a word too often bandied about, but descriptive of but a precious few.

When I was in elementary school, I stayed up to listen to Johnny, who was being watched by my parents in the next room. I knew even then that the best job in the world was to be Johnny Carson's monologue writer, which in those days was work for grown men, not frat boys. Comedy writing was the purview of males, and I wanted to break in bad. Still do. Because of Johnny.

Johnny was generous. He launched the careers of all the great funny men: Billy Crystal; David Brenner; Albert Brooks; Rodney Dangerfield; Gabe Kaplan; and of course, Jay and Dave. Where would any of those guys be today, without Johnny? He was praiseworthy and encouraging, and you knew, if Johnny liked somebody, he was somebody worth liking.

This is a sad time for comedy. Johnny's gone; Dave Barry's retired his column. It's hard to find the laughter these days, when it is so sorely needed. I'll always remember Johnny, and the infinite pleasure he brought with a clever bit; an hysterical aside; a brilliant double take. Just think what that couch in Heaven must look like now – Dean and Sammy and Frank; Bob and Bing and Milton; Buddy and Alan and Rodney.

On with the show.

Where's My Corkscrew?

2005-01-23T13:25:00.000-05:00

*

It seems that women are worse map-readers than men. Well, at least women are willing to look at a map.

*

A former judge is in trouble for pleasuring himself on the bench. I guess he took the instruction, "all rise" too literally.

*

A guy robbed a Domino's deliverywoman and then had the nerve to call her for a hook-up. What's worse, he asked her, "if you don't deliver in 30 minutes, is my pizza free?"

*

A woman gave crack cocaine to her 4-year old son to calm him down. And then she lit him a joint so he would eat all the leftovers in the fridge.

*

They say a drink a day can stave off mental decline. Now, where did I put that corkscrew?

Sweets and Tarts

2005-01-19T01:49:00.000-05:00

*

The cake giant Hostess is producing a cookbook filled entirely with Twinkies recipes. If I were you, I'd steer clear of the Twinkies Cordon Bleu.

*

A new sex survey concludes that 58 percent of British women fake orgasms, as do 19 percent of their men. I guess it's true that the only thing stiff about a Brit is his upper lip.

*

A store in Indiana plans to sell 30 tons of jelly beans. Can a cookbook be far behind? If I were you, I'd steer clear of the Jelly Bean Salad.

*

I just stumbled on a website that offers Brits the chance to host a dinner party with a celebrity guest. Wouldn't it be smashing if they served Twinkie's 'n mash and jelly bean trifle with a stiff drink?

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 11

2005-01-16T15:00:00.001-05:00

Oooh, Baby, Baby

2005-01-14T21:18:00.000-05:00

*

A pregnant woman who couldn't make it to the hospital gave birth outside a McDonald's. A helpful cashier queried, "You want fries with that?"

*

A couple who met on the Internet named their baby boy "Yahoo." That will probably be number one on this year's list of most popular baby names, followed by Brad, Nicollette, Apple, Snapple, iPod, Google, Blog, Malaria and Bextra.

*

The proud mother said, "we named him Lucian Yahoo after my father and the 'Net, the main beacon of my life." Lucian? 'Net? They could have called him "Lunatic."

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 10

2005-01-11T21:39:00.000-05:00

Nearly three years ago, I was fired from my job; a casualty of the post-9/11 economic downturn. After 18 months of looking for work without success, I sat down to write a book, entitled, "Blown Job: an unemployment odyssey." Here's an excerpt from Chapter Ten. (See "Past Posts of Note" for earlier chapters )

Chapter 10 - Dinner at Eight A.M.

Being axed permanently disrupts your daily pattern of living. No longer do you have to wake up with the birds and jump into a shower and blow dry your hair and grab a Power Bar and dash to the train and wait on the subway platform at the exact spot where the doors will open, and sit in your favorite seat in the corner and read your book until you reach your stop, where you jump out right at the stairway leading to the street and walk to the deli where you grab your coffee and go next door to your building, where you flash your employee ID to the security guard and make small talk with your co-workers in the elevator, and get off on your floor and turn on your computer and read your e-mail and begin another day at work.

This routine is now meaningless. Even if you wanted to do this one more time, you’d be turned away at the door. Sure, you’ll still arise at daybreak, because the part of your brain that’s programmed to wake up at the same time every morning regardless of whether the alarm’s gone off hasn’t heard yet from that other part of your brain that knows damned well you probably won’t have to wake up this early ever again.

If you’re smart, you’ll quickly establish a new routine. You’ll wake up early-ish and have your breakfast and hit the computer and search the ’Net for jobs and send out résumés and call your networking contacts and get out of the house and meet those contacts for lunch and keep on looking until you find that new job.

Ideally, finding a job shouldn’t take you very long. But when the days stretch into weeks, and the weeks into months, and you are still unemployed, your enthusiasm begins to wane. So, you sleep an hour or two later than usual and you spend less time on the computer looking for work and more time reading the gossip columns and checking out the latest games and instant-messaging your friends who are still lucky enough to have jobs.

Or maybe you take a different tack and, slowly but surely, make looking for work your whole new career. You spend hours typing keywords into search engines for jobs you’ve always dreamed of having but were afraid to tackle in the past. You look for work in cities you’d like to live in. You join unemployment support groups or start one of your own. You put on your business suit every morning, buy a paper, haul ass down to Starbucks and sit there for two hours, reading the want ads and circling likely prospects. You go to the library and read trade journals for industry news that might give you an edge. You take classes to improve your skills or acquire new ones. You attend employment seminars and job fairs. You do volunteer work in the hope that you might make a serendipitous networking connection or that some project you contribute your talents to may lead to a paying job.

It’s unlikely that any of this will lead to what you’re really after, but keeping yourself occupied can keep you from going insane.

I traveled each of these routes in the past year and a half. At first, I was enthusiastic and optimistic. I wasn’t going to let this setback hold me down. I did everything I was supposed to do and you know, by now, how it’s all turned out.

I don’t want you to think that I haven’t worked at all. I spent two entire days typing mailing labels and stuffing envelopes for a friend. And one day, I participated in a focus group for three hours. This brings my total annual income to $180. But I’m psyched because the year isn’t over yet.

Once I bought my computer, I began to spend more time at home. I dutifully checked the job sites every day and followed up on promising leads, but after a few hours, I needed a mental break. I would read ’Net periodicals and my e-mails and then I’d check out the my Favorites and then click on some links and find new sites and click on some new links and add to my Favorites and before I knew it, the sun had gone down.

I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t turn on the television during the day, but, pretty soon, I was timing my lunch to coincide with reruns of NYPD Blue and in fairly short order, I couldn’t wait to see what SpongeBob SquarePants and Jimmy Neutron were up to each day.

My routines pretty much disappeared. I’ve always been a night person trapped in a 9-to-5 world. Now that I had nowhere to be, I pushed back my bedtime further and further. Television became my new best friend. I watched everything, day and night. I saw King of the Hill at 1:30 AM and Tom and Jerry at 2:00 and Coach at 2:30. I watched infomercials for mattresses and acne treatments and time-shares. I watched Spanish-language talk shows. I understood about every tenth word, but I loved that everyone talked at the same time, really fast and really loud, and that people in the audience dressed like aliens. The only theme show I understood without benefit of translation was “Toda mi familia es prostituta y yo soy virgen.”

I watched reruns of shows I never cared for in prime time. I watched Rikki Lake and Dr. Phil and Oprah. I watched Lifetime movies, all of which appeared to be about the same thing. One night (I think it was night), I came upon a channel I didn’t even know I had, and there was an uncut version of Jerry Springer, and let me tell you, it was so out there that it made his daytime syndicated show look like The 700 Club. People never stopped saying motherfucker and they pulled out all kinds of body parts and it was so horrifying and violent that I had to turn it off after 59 minutes.

Another night, I spent a half-hour watching one of the shopping channels as they hawked a display case for the new series of state quarters. The announcer knew all kinds of facts about the coins – where they were minted and what the state symbols meant and the composition of the metals, and lots more. It was better than The Learning Channel.

I watched every true crime show there was. I’m pretty confident now that, if asked, I can perform an autopsy, question a suspect, and test for chemicals that cannot be traced in blood or tissues.

I watched every crappy infotainment special – 60 Minutes II, Dateline, Primetime, 48 Hours. Anyone who was famous for at least 15 minutes got my full attention. I watched VH1 specials about musicians whose work I never heard. I spent an hour watching a biography on E! of an actress whose entire claim to fame was that she had a supporting role on a sitcom from 15 years ago. They gave her an entire hour. A supporting role. 15 years ago. An entire hour.

I watched the cooking shows. Iron Chef. Emeril. Anthony Bourdain. Mario Batali. Lidia Bastianich. I watched painting shows. The guy that died about 10 years ago, whose shows are more popular than ever. A woman who almost inspired me to order her video, before I remembered that I have no artistic ability. But she made it look so easy. I even watched a sewing show, which is ironic since, you may remember, I can’t sew and now, since my near vision isn’t worth a crap, I can’t even thread a needle.

I did have a line beyond which I would not cross. No reality shows. No Howard Stern. No Anna Nicole Smith. No Joan Rivers. ’Nuff said.

My unwavering commitment to television meant that I usually went to sleep as the sun was coming up. I woke midday, and had breakfast around 4:00 PM, lunch around 7:00, and dinner near 11:00. In between, I’d nosh on things I never used to eat – potato chips, Devil Dogs, mini-muffins. At 2:00 AM, I’d have a snack of whatever ice cream was left in the freezer, in whatever quantity that was left from my last binge. I can’t imagine why my weight has fluctuated so, since I’ve stopped working.

It’s so much easier to dress now. No longer do I have to coordinate an outfit. As long as my jeans and T-shirts are clean, my wardrobe problems are solved. That’s on the days that I bother to go out of the house.

I don’t have to battle any more to use the washing machines in my building’s basement. There aren’t too many neighbors to contend with at 10:00 PM.

It’s so much easier to go food shopping. No long lines at 4:00. And I don’t mind waiting on lines at the bank or the Post Office anymore, because I’m not in a hurry to get back to work – or anywhere at all.

When I go to sleep, I don’t toss and turn, thinking about some project that I have to complete tomorrow. I don’t have to prepare a mental checklist of agenda items to discuss with my boss. I don’t have to envision a presentation I’m slated to give.

And boy, am I glad that I don’t have to attend any more holiday parties or office retreats or company picnics, where you have to socialize with people who screwed you over the day before. No more having to stay late or go in on a weekend. No more standing on a crowded train for an hour every evening. No more union dues. No more secret Santa. No more nasty, bitchy bosses. No more pesky annual visits to H&R Block.

No more paychecks. No more paid vacation. No more health benefits. No more payroll savings. No more Transitcheks. No more bonuses. No more paid tuition.

Sorry, I got off track. That’s what happens when you wake up at 3:00 PM. What I find most disconcerting about this new lifestyle is when I make myself presentable and go to the city and I’m surrounded by people who still have jobs. Every one of them has now become my mortal enemy, because I’m so envious. When I see a woman in heels carrying a briefcase, or two people standing in front of their office building having a smoke, or if I’m seated in a restaurant next to a table of folks talking about what went on in the office earlier that morning, I want to scream, what can I do to be like you? How can I get back into the race? Sadly, I haven’t a clue and it’s driving me nuts.

*

Recently, I was writing a business letter and I was trying to come up with a phrase to describe something that had been resurrected after a long period of dormancy, and I couldn’t come up with a thing. I stared at my monitor for ten minutes before, “rekindle the flame” occurred to me, but that wasn’t really the phrase I was searching for.

This happens to me more and more often now. I can attribute part of it to the aging process, the same aging process that causes me to forget why I came into a room, but more likely, it is because my brain has been hibernating for so long. Yet, I can recall in an instant that Chandler Bing’s TV Guide comes to him under the name of “Ms. Chanandelar Bong.” And when I can’t sleep, I have no trouble naming all of the characters in The Simpsons; including Bleeding Gums Murphy and Snowball #1.

I also find that I’m spending inordinate amounts of time on things I wouldn’t have considered at all, if I was working. For example, I think that a mole on my left breast is growing incrementally, like 1/1000 of a millimeter a day. And the crack in my bathroom wall is beginning to look like a profile of Martin Short as Ed Grimley. Clearly, I have too much time on my hands.

I would gladly give up my addictions to TV and the Internet and my heightened interest in domesticity if I could find a job. I’d learn to go to sleep by midnight and wake up with the sun. I’d eat three meals a day again, at roughly the same time as everyone else does. I’d dress for success, instead of wearing whatever’s not in the hamper. I’d devote myself to my new job and be the firm’s #1 employee.

I’ve decided that, if I don’t find a well-paying job commensurate with my many years of employment experience soon, then I’m going to become the best damned clerical in the business.

Today's Monologue

2005-01-08T03:33:00.000-05:00

*

A defendant in England refused to appear in court because his toenails were too long. Well, at least he won't get a walk.

*

Samsung is introducing an 80-inch plasma TV. Personally, I'd rather have a 19-inch TV and a 30-inch remote.

*

A guy is suing NBC for $2.5 million because watching "Fear Factor" made him sick. Wonder what I can get for suffering through "Center of the Universe."

*

A couple of bright guys broke into a car dealership in Germany and stole a coffee machine. When they do a bank job, they probably rip off the pens.

*

Some Texans are selling snow on EBay, presumably to those who've never seen the stuff. Talk about a snow job.

*

I just read in J-Walk Blog about a $2,900 flashlight and a computer that retails for "only $50,000." They're gonna need valet parking at Home Depot and Best Buy.

*

A wag at the Census Bureau renamed Bevis Lake in Seattle, "Butthead Lake." And get this: the Great Lakes now will be known as Homer, Lisa, Bart, Marge, and Maggie, or the easy-to-remember mnemonic, "HLBMM."

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 9

2005-01-02T18:53:00.000-05:00

Nearly three years ago, I was fired from my job; a casualty of the post-9/11 economic downturn. After 18 months of looking for work without success, I sat down to write a book, entitled, "Blown Job: an unemployment odyssey." Here's an excerpt from Chapter Nine. (See "Past Posts of Note" for earlier chapters )

Chapter 9 - Money, or, Go Suck A Nest Egg

It is not an exaggeration to say that losing your job changes every single aspect of your life. You dress differently, think differently, act differently, and spend differently when you are no longer working.

When you lose your job, your immediate worry is, how will I pay my bills? You sit down and make out a monthly budget. Then you divide your cash on hand to determine how many months you safely can be out of work and still meet your obligations. You pray that you find work before the money runs out. Most likely, it will before you do.

My own assessment gave me a little comfort at first. When they fired my ass, they gave me my accrued vacation, some severance, and my retirement earnings. I also had some small savings and I knew that I would be eligible for unemployment insurance. So, after I did the math, I knew that I would be good for about a year and a half, if I watched every penny. And I have. Watched every penny. As they trickled, and more often, poured, out of my checking account.

I live very frugally. It comes from growing up as a poor kid who never made much money as an adult. I’m not cheap, but I am careful. Oh, now I’m cheap, because I have to be. How I hate that.

The first thing that I cut out of my life was my magazine subscriptions. Au revoir, Vanity Fair and The New Yorker and New York Magazine. Half the time, I didn’t know who was being profiled anyway, and I was pretty sure that I could survive without knowing what Paris Hilton was up to. But, after a few months, I found that my long train commutes became intolerable without the short-attention span reading material that those periodicals provided. So, the first time Vanity Fair made me a renewal offer I couldn’t refuse, I couldn’t refuse. Fortunately, since most of the ad-larded issues are the size of a phone book, I can stretch the read throughout the month.

Next to go were charitable donations – Meals on Wheels; diseases that I was well-acquainted with; the library, which was my favorite cause. Well, they’re just going to have to cure diabetes, heart disease, and Alzheimer’s without me.

I began paying close attention to coupons that came in the mail and in my Sunday paper. I stopped being brand-loyal and bought whatever coffee, apple juice and ice cream were on sale. And when I was able to use the points that had accumulated on my supermarket’s club card to get a free roll of paper towels, I counted it as a good day.

I took advantage of rebates on everything from bras to frozen food to the zip disks I used in my computer. I started a file to keep track of when my rebates were due and when they didn’t come on time, I called to find out where the hell they were. For the longest time, the only checks that I’ve deposited into my account are from the good folks at Healthy Choice and Fujifilm.

When I had a steady paycheck, I didn’t worry too much about spending $20 for mascara and $40 for foundation from Lancomé at Bloomingdale’s. Now, I comb the makeup wall at Duane Reade for buys from less expensive brands. So what if my eyes are red and itchy and my lashes clump together into one big fat eyelash and I can’t cover up the dark circles very well or hide the adult-onset acne? I’m saving money, dammit.

I stopped buying books and CDs. I stopped going to the movies. No more new clothes. No more Friday night Chinese takeout. Now I walk eight extra blocks from the train to save carfare. When I’m away from home all day, I eat lunch at fast food restaurants, taking advantage of the $.99 menus.

I put off dental surgery, primarily because it cost $3,000, but mostly, to be honest, because I didn’t want my gums cut up by a sadist in a white coat. And, though I’m dying to have my teeth professionally whitened (not only for vanity’s sake, but also because it will improve my candidacy,) I’ve come to rely on quarterly applications of Crest Whitestrips, a solution that manages to be both efficacious and viscous at the same time. (How’s that for an ad campaign?)

I delayed the purchase of a new sofa bed, even though my couch cushions are now pancake-thin and I have to sleep in a K-formation to avoid being gored by the metal mattress coils that protrude like barbed wire.

I’ve long since stopped getting my haircut on Park Avenue at $100 a pop and I now go to Supercuts, where it costs me $15. No longer do I have to tip the woman who takes my coat and hands me a robe, the woman who washes my hair, and the man who cuts it. Now, I only have to tip the one person who does it all. This has turned out to be the best of my cost-cutting ventures, because, quite frankly, the cut is terrific and my hair looks better than ever. I just hope that my hairdresser doesn’t get wise to the fact that she is so good that she could be making a pile elsewhere.

I no longer can afford to buy my friends and family nice presents for their birthdays and holidays. I used to love to shop for gifts, spending way too much time picking out just the right thing for each person and buying pretty wrapping paper and a matching bow and a nice card. Now, I buy utilitarian presents like umbrellas and wallets and scarves and I wrap them in cut-up shopping bags and magazine covers. I recycle bows from gifts that I received, and instead of cards, I say, “Here, this is from me.” And, as I’m coming up on year two of unemployment, even this is too much of an extravagance.

I used to clean out the two tiny closets in my apartment every year, weeding out the unfortunate purchases and clothes that are either two sizes too big or too small. They usually wound up at a charity or in the closet of a friend who appreciated my fashion sense. Now, I’m all cleaned out. I no longer need to wear smart-looking suits and heels, except for what’s become my semi-annual interview. Most days, I don’t need to get dressed at all.

Last week, I was walking past a store and saw a knockoff of a Kelly bag, a beautiful pocketbook that the elegant Grace Kelly used to carry. I went in, checked the price, walked out, started for home, went back, walked in again, held the bag on my arm in front of the mirror, said fuck it, it’s only $34 and I bought it. It was the first thing that I’ve bought for myself in 18 months, and boy, do I feel guilty.

There is something else, something big, that I bought for myself during this time period, but it wasn’t a luxury, it was a necessity. I had to buy a computer. I’d put off the purchase for years, rationalizing that I could use my office computer to type the occasional personal letter, or my novel. When I lost my job, I trekked to the Career Center to use the publicly available computers. But when I lost access to the Center, the only alternatives I had were the public library, where time was brief, or a retail outlet, where time was money.

So it became clear that I’d have to break down and buy a computer. But which one? And what kind of hardware and software would I need? And where would I put it in my tiny apartment? And how much would I have to spend? I’d been avoiding these issues for years, but I realized I would have to face them now.

A friend told me about a fabulous computer that cost only $400. In truth, this is probably the cost of the face plate on the monitor that displays the company’s logo. When all the necessary add-ons were factored in, the bill came to $1,400, which I will probably be paying for until the day I croak.
*

I think you can see what I mean about how your life can change when you lose your paycheck. And I don’t even own a house, two kids, or a dog. I don’t even want to think about what unemployed people with those responsibilities have to face every month.

I’d really like to stop for a moment and address all of the employers who have put me and my nine million cohorts in economic purgatory. Were the cost savings you realized as a result of all the firings worth ruining other people’s lives? I really hope so, because, otherwise, wasn’t downsizing just another fucked-up management decision? It would give me limitless pleasure if each and every one of you is next on the chopping block. Come and see how the other half lives.

So, here I sit, gazing wistfully as my bank book, wondering if I’m going to make it. What if I don’t find a job before the money runs out? Some days I’m able to keep the panic at bay; at other times, my stomach is in a constant knot and sleep won’t come. But I’m sure to find something soon; some job that will help to make ends meet. Right? Don’t you think? I bet we all will, all nine million of us. Right?

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 8

2004-12-26T17:43:00.000-05:00

For My Fan

2004-12-22T23:24:00.000-05:00

*

A legless diabetic in Britain was gifted with a pair of socks and a box of chocolates. Hey, it’s the thoughtlessness that counts.

*

In the new Harry Potter book out next July, our hero is in his sixth year at Hogwarts. This time out, Harry will learn wand repair, invent a carb-free Every-flavor bean, and dissect a Weasley.

*

A city in Mexico has banned indoor nudity. Cops are frantically vying for spots on the undercover task force.

This Just In

2004-12-20T01:13:00.000-05:00

*

China crowned its first "Miss Artificial Beauty" in a contest for women who have undergone plastic surgery. The winner received a dozen artificial roses and a cubic zirconia crown.

*

In Hawaii this week, Christmas trees are going for upwards of $200, due to a supply shortage. A few weeks ago, they only cost $80. I bet folks are sorry now that they didn't buy them on a "lei-away" plan.

*

A bank robber in Milwaukee handed a teller a note written on the back of his probation papers from a previous bank robbery. The only thing he forgot to do was draw a map of the route to his house.

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 7, Part 2

2004-12-19T16:03:00.001-05:00

Nearly three years ago, I was fired from my job; a casualty of the post-9/11 economic downturn. After 18 months of looking for work without success, I sat down to write a book, entitled, "Blown Job: an unemployment odyssey." I've been posting excerpts here. Since interviews took up such a big part of my life, and of the book, I've split Chapter Seven into two parts. Here's Part Two. (See "Past Posts of Note" for earlier chapters )

Chapter 7, Part 2 – Interviews, or, You Don’t Need Anyone, Do You

Interview Tip #4: Do establish a salary range:

You: I’m looking for a salary in the range of $45,000 to $50,000.

Interviewer: But this is a clerical job.

You: Yeah, and I’m the best damned clerical in the business.

Three job interviews in six months' time; no offers. My next interview, two months later, was for a marketing coordinator position with an engineering consulting firm. Because it took place in the summer, I had to add a little something extra to my interview preparation, which I’ll call Phase 4.1, dressing for excess.

There are two seasons in New York, which are best characterized as ass-freezing and boiling hot. In the winter, which runs roughly from late October through mid-March, one needs to dress in layers to face the biting wind and bitter cold. In so doing, otherwise stylish women appear to have taken fashion advice from The Michelin Man. In summer, where the humidity is off the charts, you need to wear the least amount of clothing possible, while avoiding a charge of indecent exposure. If I put on a suit and stockings in summer, by the time I hit the subway platform, two levels below the street and one above Hell, my carefully made-up countenance instantly resembles that of the character in the Indiana Jones movie; the one whose face melted off when he touched the Holy Grail. So I went with Plan B.

As my interview fell on a day when the heat was utterly unbearable at 8:00 AM, I decided to be smart about dressing. Instead of donning my interview suit, I put on a sleeveless dress and sandals, and eighty-sixed my panty hose. I carried my interview outfit in an overnight bag, and when I arrived at the office, a half-hour before my interview, I asked the receptionist if I could use the ladies room. I changed into my outfit there. A bit unusual, I admit, but I’d been on too many interviews where the perfect look I was going for was ruined as soon as I locked my door. If I was worried that the receptionist might have been scandalized by such behavior, my fears were allayed when I came back out. She barely glanced up at me. If I was going to perspire at all, better it should be due to the interview taking a bad turn, and not because the streets of New York aren’t air-conditioned.

It turned out that I had a delightful meeting with my interviewer, a woman with whom I was very impressed. Not only was she an engineer and a senior partner in the firm, but also she was a writer. Most of the technical professionals who I had met over the years were not all that skillful in word manipulation. There seemed to be two disparate skill sets at play, both of which this woman appeared to have mastered.

I showed her my work samples and she showed me excerpts from her firm’s proposals, qualification statements, and brochures. She let it slip that, among the applicants, there were three who presently were working at rival firms. Though they probably stood a better chance than I did of winning this job, I felt confident that I had made a good showing.

I therefore was very pleased to be called back for a second interview. This time, I would be speaking to the marketing manager; the person to whom the position would report directly. The first woman I spoke to was her boss, and the only reason that I saw her first was that the marketing manager was on vacation when the initial interview was conducted.

I was not as impressed with her as I was with her boss. She was very retiring and spoke in such a tiny voice that it was difficult for me to hear her. She didn’t really seem to have much input in the hiring process, and deferred to her boss and her boss’s boss. She told me that the latter, who was the Vice President of Marketing, would be the one who made the final decision.

She gave me a writing assignment to complete while I was there. I was to prepare a résumé for a hypothetical engineer. It was easy and I believe that I did well.

You can bet that I was elated when I was called back for a third interview. The field was narrowing. I waited nearly an hour for the marketing VP to complete another interview. To pass the time, I perused an exhibit in the waiting area. It was a graphic display prepared in response to a Request for Proposal and concerned a project to beautify a neglected area of the city. It immediately struck me that this had absolutely nothing to do with the core business of the firm. They were involved with water- and waste management. I made a mental note to ask the VP about this.

When we finally sat down together, he was interested to know how well I would work with busy engineers who had precious little time to devote to writers. I told him that I had worked with hardware and software engineers in the past, who also were too busy to be bothered. I mentioned that this was in a job very early in my career, which did not appear on my résumé. I explained that I was tenacious in following up with technical personnel and that I often had to remind them that we had to work together if we had any hope of bringing new business into the company. He seemed satisfied with my answer and went on to ask a few related questions.

When it came to my turn, I uttered some remarks that made it clear that I understood the firm’s business from my reading of the annual report and the website. I then brought up the project displayed in Reception and I asked him about its relevance to the organization’s mission. He told me that it was a project about which the region’s engineers were very proud and which they had undertaken to submit on their own time. I agreed that it was very altruistic, but I wondered if it might confuse potential clients, who might expect to see, at their first point of contact in the reception area, a project that was more closely allied with the firm’s core business, water- and waste management.

I actually think that I insulted him. He mentioned, rather defensively, that such projects were displayed throughout the halls of the office, which I had noticed on my prior visits. Any one of those projects would have been a better fit in the reception area, as they had more to do with the company’s actual business. But I didn’t say that.

At the end of the interview, I asked him about the next step. He said that I was the last to be interviewed and that a decision would be made the following week. I asked if I would hear something either way, and he said yes.

Ten days passed. I decided to call the marketing manager. She told me that a decision had not been made. She didn’t offer anything further and I asked if I would be advised in any event. She said yes and rang off.

Nobody called. No one e-mailed, or faxed, or sent me a letter. Three interviews; three suits; three round-trip train fares; three lunches. And hours and hours of Phases I-IV. And they didn’t even have the decency to let me know that they had hired someone else. Even after I sent each of the three a thank-you letter after each interview.

What did me in this time? Was it my questioning of the VP about the lobby display? Was it that I mentioned a job that wasn’t on my résumé? If only he would have asked, I gladly would have explained that I had been advised to go back 15 years on my résumé and no further, but that all of my jobs appeared on my application. Did they finally decide to go with someone from one of the rival firms, who had more direct experience? As with all my other interviews, I’ll never know.

It’s very frustrating, when you’re forced to divulge all kinds of personal information to strangers, not to be treated with respect and candor. But, on the bright side, at least now I don’t have to know how solid waste is managed.

*

Now that I’ve had some time to reflect, I can only say that the business of looking for work is, at best, an imperfect process. In spite of all my preparation, I made a series of mistakes and missteps. As for the employers, they often acted cavalierly and insensitively. How do I make it better for the next time?

Well, for one thing, I’ve decided to put every single job back on my résumé. It was bad advice to eliminate the early positions, in the hope that I could shave a few years off of my age.

For another, I will be extra-special careful in regard to what questions I ask. I need to be more sensitive to hot-button issues.

My biggest worry is that I may never land a job again that includes a lunch hour, a 401K, health benefits, and an employee ID. The longer that I am out of work, the harder it is to find new work and the less attractive I am to employers. That is why I sat down to write this book.

God, I hope it sells 8,999,999 copies.

A Kid in a Candy Store

2004-12-18T23:13:00.000-05:00

I love the Food Network. Where else can you learn how to make – well, anything you can think of and most things you never imagined? I especially love their competitions, during which, with typical shadenfreude (come on, admit it,) we all wait for the moment when someone drops his entry just as he's carrying it to the judges' table.

I happened to tune in the other night right when they were talking about an old-time candy store in Manhattan that sells all of the nostalgia-tinged treats of my youth. The place is crammed floor to ceiling with chocolates, nuts, fruits, jellies, teas, and novelty items. I've lived in New York all of my life and I never even heard of this place. (That's not so unusual, however. There's a storefront for just about anything you can think of here, and most get by on word-of-mouth. New York is a mammoth city, made up of a million little neighborhoods.)

The store's "penny candy" section grabbed my attention. (A penny? Pul-eeze! Not in my lifetime.) I immediately was transported back to my youth. I spent an unholy amount of time at the corner candy store, which housed a counter filled to bursting with Sugar Daddies, dots, marshmallow twists, jelly rings, Mary Janes, and a thousand other teeth-destroyers. Is it any wonder that every tooth in my mouth has a filling?

I had see this place up close and personal, and today, I journeyed to Nirvana; otherwise known as Economy Candy on Rivington Street. This inconspicuous emporium is located in what is known as the Lower East Side of Manhattan, a neighborhood that time forgot. You won't find too many plush condos here. The streets are filled with ancient apartment buildings festooned with fire escapes. Any moment, I expected to see Toody and Muldoon roll by in Car 54.

I entered the shop and I immediately felt happy. There was so much to choose from, I didn't know where to start. M&Ms in all the colors of the rainbow. Pez dispensers with every cartoon character from the beginning of time. Wax lips. Chocolate cigarettes. Itty-bitty Mars bars, Mounds, Dove bars. Good and Plenty; O Henry, Junior Mints; Halvah. And my all-time favorite – chocolate Ice Cubes. This little bit of heaven is a square of chocolate with a cooling whoosh. I grabbed several handfuls and went back twice for more.

I walked around the store four times, just to make sure I didn't miss anything. My mission was to fill a tin for a friend with a sweet tooth. Mission accomplished.

I traveled two hours and I took four trains and I strained my back carrying it all home. But a bunch of my friends now are going to have a very sweet new year. And I rekindled a few happy childhood memories. I have to sign off now to make dinner – peanut-butter cups and jelly rings on a bed of M&Ms.

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 7, Part 1

2004-12-12T01:15:00.003-05:00

Nearly three years ago, I was fired from my job; a casualty of the post-9/11 economic downturn. After 18 months of looking for work without success, I sat down to write a book, entitled, "Blown Job: an unemployment odyssey." I've been posting excerpts here. Since preparing for interviews took up such a big part of my life during that time, I've split Chapter Seven into two parts. Here's Part One. (See "Past Posts of Note" for earlier chapters )

Chapter 7, Part 1 - Interviews, or, You Don’t Need Anyone, Do You?

Interview Tip #1: Remove your tongue stud before the interview, not during.

I certainly didn’t rely on networking alone to search for work. Remember that laundry list of job titles that I cataloged earlier, the ones that headlined employment ads on the ’Net? Well, these are just some of the companies and organizations whose ads I responded to:

Lexis/Nexis; The Foundation Center; Natural Resources Defense Council; Baruch College; FleetBoston Financial; Ernst & Young; Grubb & Ellis; Scholastic, Inc.; Trammell Crow; Sesame Workshop; Skadden Arps Slate Meagher & Flom; Lincoln Center; Parsons Brinckerhoff; UNICEF; CNN; Manhattan Theatre Club; Bloomingdale’s; AOL Time Warner;

Bates USA; PEN American Center; Thirteen/WNET; UBS Warburg; Pratt Institute; American Foundation for the Blind; Macy’s; Details Magazine; NBC; HarperCollins; CBS; The Learning Annex; The Ford Foundation; The Robin Hood Foundation; Random House; American Express; MTV; Rodale, Inc.;

Dress for Success; Con Edison; Brooklyn College; The New York Times; Women’s City Club of New York; The Doe Fund; Bloomberg, Inc.; Starlight Children’s Foundation; God’s Love We Deliver; A&E; Barnes & Noble; Sterling National Bank; Meredith Corporation; Bertelsmann.

The list is lots longer. I wrote to smaller firms. I responded to post office boxes, e-mail addresses, and fax numbers used by companies who wanted their names to remain confidential. I applied through the New York State Department of Labor. Each time, I composed a cover letter; tailored my résumé accordingly; included clips of my work, if required, and sent off the packages with fingers crossed and heart racing. And nearly every time, I met with disappointment.

Some of the firms were polite enough to send rejection letters:

Dear (Your Name Here),

Thank you for your interest in the XYZ Corporation. While we were impressed with your credentials, we have decided to hire someone with more direct experience.

We will hold your résumé on file for six months, in the event that a position opens up that can best utilize your skills.

Again, thank you for writing, and best of luck in your career.

Has anyone out there ever been called within the six months that your résumé supposedly remains on file? This is one of those expressions that has about as much meaning as “the check is in the mail” or “that dress really makes your ass look smaller.” It’s a nice lie.

And the closer, “best of luck in your career” never fails to irritate me. What they’re really saying is, “we don’t want you, but here’s hoping you'll find some hapless sucker who will.” If I had any luck at all, you would have called me, bitch. (In Human Resources, the bitches seem to vastly outnumber the bastards.)

Interview Tip #2: When the interviewer asks if you’d like some coffee, don’t say, “No, thanks. What I really could go for is some moo shu.”

Now, I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t able to garner a single interview in my 18 months of unemployment. I actually interviewed for four jobs. Not a fabulous ratio, but not that unusual, from what I’ve heard and read.

Going on an interview, for me, is akin to preparing for a trip to the moon. I want to be sure that I take everything that I will possibly need and I have to be prepared for every possible contingency. I’ve always been deadly serious about the subject of work – unlike a friend of mine, who, while still a young man and reluctant to join the choking mass of nine-to-fivers, would joke that he’d call companies and ask, “You don’t need anyone, do you?”

*

My preparation goes something like this. When I receive the much-anticipated call from a person in Human Resources, I immediately log on to the ’Net and read every page of the employer’s website. I print out the company’s newsletters for future reference. I focus on the firm’s buzzwords, acronyms, and mission statement. I read the Annual Report. I scan search engines for mentions of the firm and its top executives. I look at industry information on Hoover’s.

That’s Phase I. Phase II is to review the literature I’ve accumulated on interviewing techniques. I practice my two-minute pitch, which encapsulates my talents and strengths. I go over basic questions: the ones I might be asked and the ones that I should ask. I rehearse my answers. I think up new questions based on the particular firm.

Phase III is reviewing my portfolio of writing and graphics samples. I reorganize it, based on the particular job’s requirements. Are they interested in press releases, proposals, or newsletters? Will they want to see technical writing or letters or humor? Which graphic should I open the portfolio with? This is basically an exercise in masturbation, because I usually have to ask an interviewer if she wants to take a look. Most are probably bleary eyed from viewing portfolios, by the time I show up.

Phase IV is scoping out the territory. This means figuring out where the office is located and how I will get there – which train to take, what time to leave home, how far I have to walk. On interview day, I check out the neighborhood. Is there a Duane Reade drugstore nearby? This is priority one, and the answer is almost always in the affirmative, because the company’s expansion plans apparently call for a DR to be located on every city block in Manhattan. Next, where’s the nearest branch of my bank? How many fast food restaurants are nearby? Is there a good place for me to stand and have a smoke? Where are the nearest shoe repair shop, library, and post office? These may seem like trivial matters, but when you spend more than half of every day away from home, these things take on importance, on par with salary, benefits, and an office with real walls.

Interview Tip #3: Don’t ask if you can smoke at your desk; if the ladies room has a condom dispenser; if Halloween is a paid holiday; if your kids can play under your desk after school.

So now I’m ready. All I have to do is choke down the overwhelming nausea that consumes me before every interview. I come to each interview very well prepared and quite fearful that I will forget everything I reviewed over the past few days. Though I am well-dressed and make a good outward appearance, I worry that my stockings will rip, or the seams on my skirt will shift, or my lipstick will smear. I worry that I will smile inappropriately or not enough. I worry that I won’t be able to come up with the right small talk. I worry that I will not be able to remember the details on my résumé. I worry that I won’t be able to answer a question for which I am unprepared. I worry that I will perspire if it is too warm, or that my nipples will show through my blouse if it is too cold. Should I take my jacket off? Should I cross my legs? Can I lean back in my chair or should I sit forward?

None of this is covered in any of the employment guides. It’s probably best not to think too much about any of this and just hope that the work will speak for itself. But we all know that what you say with your body language and facial expressions counts heavily in any social interaction, which, for better or worse, is just what an interview is. You can intrigue an interviewer with your résumé, but you really sell her with your personality. In which case, I’m dead.

What the %#@*!

2004-12-11T15:04:00.000-05:00

*

A teacher's aide fed dog food to preschoolers pretending to be puppies. As if that weren't bad enough, one kid misspelled "cat" and was whacked on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.

*

A prisoner stabbed a fellow inmate with a sharpened pork chop bone. A subsequent toss of the cells turned up a chopped liver gun with caper bullets, a bow and arrow made of turkey gizzards, and a garrote made of Twizzlers.

*

A guy who was unhappy with his Subway sandwich threatened to kill the clerk. It just goes to show, the customer is always insane.

*

A man frustrated with having to memorize a growing list of computer passwords has suggested tattoos as the new alternative. I'm thinking of getting " Mo!*th!#er."

Cat-astrophe

2004-12-08T20:47:00.000-05:00

*

An online diploma mill has been sued for, among other things, awarding an MBA degree to a cat. Rumor has it that the cat, who is said to be pursing his doctorate, was so distraught he attempted to neuter himself.

*

The woman who auctioned her father's ghost and his cane on eBay got $65,000 from the same folks who bought the fabled "Virgin Mary on a grilled cheese sandwich." I wonder if they'd be interested in my dust bunny collection.
*

Experts suggest we give ourselves a rest from technology every so often. No, not this min... .

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 6

2004-12-05T01:54:00.000-05:00

More Food for Thought

2004-12-04T23:59:00.000-05:00

*

In New York, a martini with a loose diamond plunked in can set you back $10,000. Or $9,997.50 without the olive. Or $10,800 with the trip to the ER to extract the gem from your small intestine.

*

A woman is auctioning her father's ghost on eBay. How the hell do you figure the shipping charge on that? And what kind of people types the word "ghost" in the eBay Search box to begin with? The same ones, I suppose, who would enter "Virgin Mary" AND "grilled cheese sandwich."

*

The secretary of health and human services, Tommy Thompson, resigned the other day, with a parting shot – "For the life of me," he said, "I cannot understand why the terrorists have not attacked our food supply because it is so easy to do." Sounds like a case of sour grapes to me.

Food for Thought

2004-12-02T07:42:00.000-05:00

*

As the great Dave Barry says, "I'm not making this up." ABC Family Channel is readying a multiethnic sitcomedy extravaganza, "East of Normal, West of Weird," about a 13-year-old Chinese girl adopted by Caucasian New Yorkers; one Jewish and the other Protestant. I bet Emeril shows up to cook the family's favorite meal, moo shu pork with mayonnaise.

*

This whole rash of Spongebob thefts has made Patrick absolutely frantic. Rumor has it he's offering the thieves a reward of 10,000 clams.

*

A restaurant that serves only cereal opened in Philadelphia. I guess their big seller will be Cheesesteak Crispies.

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 5

2004-11-27T17:52:00.002-05:00

High Sticking

2004-11-26T21:08:00.000-05:00

*

Did you hear about the newscaster in Cleveland who stripped nude for a story? I'm just praying Ted Koppell doesn't get any ideas.

*

A hockey player in West Virginia was suspended for dropping his pants. I guess they got him for high sticking.

*

An armor-plated, supposedly theft-proof Mercedes Benz belonging to the company's CEO was broken into by thieves. Watch for their new ad campaign: "Mercedes Benz. We feel your pain."

*

A man stabbed several of his relatives because they criticized his table manners during Thanksgiving dinner. I guess he thought the holiday was all about giving shanks.

*

The newly reopened FAO Schwarz toy store in New York is selling miniature luxury $50,000 Ferraris and $30,000 Hummers. And that's without the optional Corinthian leather juice box holder and gold-plated Ritalin dispenser.

*

In Holland, homeless people are receiving free winter coats, as long as they're willing to have advertising displayed on them. Ben and Jerry's was the first to sign up; probably to promote their new flavors: Chocolate Bark-a Parka; Almond Joy Corduroy and Anorak CrackerJack.

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 4

2004-11-20T19:50:00.000-05:00

Nearly three years ago, I was fired from my job; a casualty of the post-9/11 economic downturn. After 18 months of looking for work without success, I sat down to write a book, entitled, "Blown Job: an unemployment odyssey." Here's an excerpt from Chapter Four. (See "Past Posts of Note" for earlier chapters. )

Chapter 4 - ’Net Work

From the moment I was axed to the present day, I have been looking for work. At the Career Center, before and after class, and up to an hour ago, I have spent part of every day doing some job-seeking activity. Those of you who might be unfamiliar with the current marketplace may wonder why, then, haven’t I been able to find a job in a year and a half? There are more of you, I’ll venture, who understand precisely why I’m still unemployed.

At the start, I networked among friends, colleagues, friends of colleagues, colleagues of friends, distant relations, neighbors, acquaintances, my pharmacist, my doctor, his receptionist, my hairdresser and people I sat next to on the bus. Networking has been such a complicated and wholly unproductive process that I’ll save the details of my experiences for a later chapter.

This is where I want to recount for you my adventures in ’Net working, or, searching for work on the Internet. The ’Net has made it easier than ever to find employment openings, but it’s also made it much harder to find actual work.

It may not surprise you to know that once upon a time I earned my living as a writer. I worked for corporations. I have experience in marketing and the non-profit sector. I’ve freelanced and worked as a consultant. I’ve written business communications and edited books. I am open to all writing, editing, (and now) desktop publishing opportunities.

And here is where the process gets complicated. Type the keywords “writer” or “editor” into a search engine and you come up with umpteen possibilities. You need to comb assiduously through them all to find the jobs that you actually can do.

As a result of many, many searches, these are but some of the jobs that I was qualified for and responded to:

Senior Writer/Editor; Grant Writer; Senior Strategic Communications Specialist; Editorial Assistant; Proposal Writer; Foundation Officer/Grants Manager; Marketing and Research Coordinator; Production Assistant; Media Analyst; Major Gifts Development Associate; Associate Director of Development for Corporations and Foundations; Communications/Public Relations Assistant; Manager, Client Development; Communications and Pursuit Strategist;

Editorial Assistant; Business Writer; Business Development Writer; Employee Communications Coordinator; Marketing Assistant; Marketing Associate; Marketing Administrator; Corporate Communications Specialist; Training Content Writer; Development Manager; Presentation Specialist; Associate, Capital Campaign and Government Relations; Publishing Manager; Publications Manager; Proposal Coordinator; Proofreader/Copyeditor; Associate Editor;

Advertising Copywriter; Fashion Copywriter; Copy Coordinator; Marketing/Promotions Manager; Graphic Designer; Investor Relations Writer; Education Writer; Project Manager; Associate Writer; Publicity Assistant; Program Coordinator; Communications Associate; Desk Assistant; Desktop Project Coordinator; Manager; Internal and External Communications; Grant and Donor Stewardship Manager; Executive Assistant; and, the only job title that everyone seems to recognize, Administrative Assistant.

You will note that these positions run the gamut from some kind of Assistant up through Associate Director. The titles are meaningless; it’s the job responsibilities and experience requirements that count. There are some Assistant jobs that are really Manager jobs in disguise, for the simple reason that employers can get away with paying assistant-level salaries to people with manager-level experience.

Most of these jobs, despite their highfalutin’ titles, had the same basic requirements: writing and computer skills, attention to detail, ability to work and play well with others.

Yet, there are lots of little landmines contained within the job descriptions, and only the savvy jobhunter will be able to navigate them without suffering abject disappointment and severe eyestrain. Here’s a sample of what appeared to me at first glance to be a perfect fit:

Marketing Coordinator/Writer/proposal preparation/public relations for consulting firm. Requires writing, editing and proofreading skills; an eye for color and design; sound judgment.

Sounds good.

Must be detail oriented, organized, and computer literate. Capable of handling deadline pressure. Occasional overtime.

I can deal with that.

Must speak Japanese.

D’oh!

This kind of thing happens all the time. You muddle through a job description only to find one requirement that you absolutely cannot fake. Wouldn’t it have been ever so helpful if the ad writer thought about it for a moment and used the phrase “’Japanese-speaking’ Marketing Coordinator” at the beginning of the ad, thus saving me and about 5,000 other people some precious time? Boy, I’d like to have that numbnut’s job. (I’ve probably applied for it already.)

Another thing that ticks me off like crazy is when employers require applicants to possess years of experience with a veritable smorgasbord of software programs. Beyond the holy trinity of Word, Excel, and PowerPoint, many employers expect the ideal applicant to have not merely “knowledge of,” but also “expertise in” such programs as Access, Page Maker, Word Perfect, Quark, Photoshop, Illustrator, Corel DRAW, HTML, Dreamweaver, and Flash. I’d like to meet the one person in America who has even 50% of such knowledge; that is, if his head hasn’t already exploded like one of Gallagher’s watermelons from too much information.

*

Some job descriptions seem like they will never end. The ’Net gives employers the freedom to prate on endlessly; a luxury they would not enjoy if they were paying by the column inch for ad space in a print publication. This is an actual ad that I answered. (I’ve deleted the name of the firm, to protect it from the teasing likely to ensue:)

QUALIFICATIONS: This is an entry-level account service position. An assistant account executive must possess good interpersonal and communication skills in order to work effectively with a variety of account service staff within a specific set of accounts. S/he must have excellent organizational skills and the ability to adapt to new conditions, assignments and deadlines. S/he must have solid knowledge of MS Office Suite. S/he must pass a writing test and demonstrate the ability to become a strong writer. The assistant account executive is expected to hold a bachelor's degree in a related field and have interest in pursing a career in public relations. Previous internship experience in the communications field is desirable.

RESPONSIBILITIES: The assistant account executive is responsible for supporting the account executives, senior account executives and account supervisors in day-to-day activities. Day-to-day responsibilities include: solid understanding of basic principles of PR; familiarity with key client contacts and clear understanding of clients' organizational structure; general account service administration; trafficking jobs and project coordination; preparation of client status reports; compilation of media coverage to client; read and identify media clips from clipping services and on-line resources; reactive and proactive media relations; press tour pitching, scheduling, and logistics; prepare press kits for distribution; schedule booth appointments at trade shows and ensure appropriate follow-up; understand clients' top-tier media and be able to identify appropriate trade and business editors for upcoming pitches; support product reviews process; initial speakers bureau research and coordination; call downs to Media for pitching; assist in writing press release or press kit pieces (fact sheet, tip sheet, bios, etc); participate in brainstorms; knowledge of AP style; write memos to vendors; write creative and accurate new releases and headlines; research, outline, write and edit media advisories, bios, conference reports, pitch letters and/or email pitches and product fact sheets; basic understanding of key client information, including general business strategy, industry issues, products and services, key customers and competitors in the marketplace; research brand information; understand research and media list building tools (Factiva, Edge, etc.); work with and oversee interns, particularly in the area of project management; work within established account budget parameters and notify supervisor of any potential cost overruns; compute timesheets and expense reports; live the firm’s values (quality, integrity, respect, entrepreneurial spirit, mutual benefit); demonstrate professional behaviors and pursuit of excellence in all operations.

I want to point out to you, in case you missed it, that the very first line of this ad explains that this is an entry-level position. Scary, isn’t it? Imagine what they’d require of someone with experience.

*

Deciphering the hieroglyphics in job ads means reading between the lines. For example, “occasional overtime required.” What does this really mean? Is it a few extra hours at the end of the month, before a report is due? Or is it midnight three times a week, after which you drag your butt home; fall asleep on the couch, too tired to remove your makeup and shoes; and haul ass back to the office after what can only be qualified as a nap?

How about this one: “Work for two Senior Vice Presidents.” Oh, that’s bound to be endless fun. Anyone who has ever worked for two people at the same time knows that you forever are engaged in a tug of war, forced to determine whose swinging you-know-what is bigger. Both execs are bound to give you work that is due the day before yesterday and each will hound you to your grave with the mandate that his project takes priority. Two words, folks: career suicide.

My favorite phrases are the banal expressions that have no real meaning at all, but are included by employers who likely feel that such buzzwords lend some legitimacy to their offerings: “be a self-starter,” “think outside the box,” “be proactive,” ”have (in no particular order) team spirit,” “a positive attitude,” “a sense of humor.”

In other words, don’t be a lazy, dour jackass. Got it.

*

Time is critical, especially for those who do not own a computer and who must rely on public access. At busy metropolitan libraries, one is usually allowed 30 minutes. That’s just enough time to sign in, open a job website, type in a keyword, find a raft of jobs, choose one, and start a cover letter; at which point the librarian yells, “Time!” and you’re forced to relinquish your spot to a 10 year-old who’s writing a paper on the natural wonders of Czechoslovakia.

Of course, you can go to a retail outlet that charges by the minute for computer usage. That won’t be too anxiety producing, waiting for your web pages to download as dollar after dollar is sucked into the abyss. Add to this the costs of printing and faxing, and you’ll be mesmerized as your unemployment check magically disappears.

*

I really hope that I haven’t discouraged you from using the ’Net in your quest to find a job. I’ve actually garnered some interviews as a result of this method (about which more later.)

In closing, I suggest to you what’s been suggested to me: the ’Net should be but one of several methods you use to search for work – the others being networking, nepotism, and, my personal favorite, parading down Broadway with a sandwich board reading, “Will think outside the box for food.”

Someone is Reading My Blog!

2004-11-13T18:11:00.000-05:00

Oh, happy day. Someone is actually reading my blog.

Here's what a nice fellow named Dan had to say about one of my earlier posts:

http://getthatjob.blogspot.com/2004/11/job-search-humor-blog-and-success.html

2004-11-13T16:48:00.000-05:00

I'm a friggin' desktop Michaelangelo!
(from Blown Job: Chapter 3)

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 3

2004-11-13T16:34:00.001-05:00

Nearly three years ago, I was fired from my job; a casualty of the post-9/11 economic downturn. After 18 months of looking for work without success, I sat down to write a book, entitled, "Blown Job: an unemployment odyssey." Here's an excerpt from Chapter Three. (See "Past Posts of Note" for earlier chapters )

Chapter 3 - Look Ma, I Can Draw!

When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to get out of school each day. The longest half-hour of my life was the one between 2:30 PM and 3:00 PM. I used to make myself nauseous, following the second-hand as it moved 1,800 times, Monday through Friday, September through June, kindergarten through college. And I was a good student, too. I was just restless.

As an adult, I took all sorts of continuing education classes, deluding myself that I could change careers based solely on one three-hour course taught by someone who was clearly so disgruntled with his own chosen field that he moonlighted to keep from going insane.

So, when I learned that I would be able to obtain up to $5,000 in grant money through the Career Center to attend classes to improve my skills and make myself more marketable, I was conflicted. This seemed like an offer too good to pass up, but in what direction should I point myself? And could I control my short attention span long enough to pass an adult version of a pop quiz? I decided that I’d be crazy not to try.

*

I’d long been curious about the field of desktop publishing. It seemed like a cool kind of a career; creating and printing newsletters, brochures, reports, ads, and all manner of publications right there on the desktop. Kind of like publishing Poor Richard’s Almanack on a Mac.

I did my research and found out that I could earn a certificate in computer graphics at one of the institutions approved by the program. I completed all of the necessary paperwork and was awarded my grant. Look out, Ben Franklin, here I come.

*
I signed up for QuarkXpress, a page layout program; Illustrator, a drawing program; and Photoshop, a photo manipulation program. If I could master these three courses, I would be well on my way to finding a job in the glamorous world of desktop publishing.

Each course consisted of six three-hour classes. I found out later that some schools offer each program over the length of an entire semester, or even two. And for good reason. The brochure neglected to mention that mastering the programs was analogous to learning Latin, Greek and Tagalog in three weeks. Each program had its own nomenclature, rules, and set of icons. A good sense of design is absolutely required to be a desktop publishing pro, though this was omitted from the course prerequisites.

This, I suppose is the nature of crash courses; to lure unsuspecting students with flashy brochures and the promise that they, too, will attain mastery of esoterica in no time at all. I gave it my best shot and I found that, though it was a struggle, I was able to absorb enough of the curriculum to actually enjoy putting my new-found knowledge into practice.

Once I got a handle on the icons and rules of page layout in QuarkXpress, it was on to Illustrator, with more icons and more rules. This is what I learned to do in Illustrator, after only three classes:

I'm a friggin' desktop Michelangelo!

It may not look like much to you, but I cannot begin to tell you how proud I was of myself for creating this. I was the kind of student who got my best friend to do all of my art projects in elementary school in exchange for me writing her term papers. I am the one you’ve heard so much about; the one who cannot draw a straight line with a ruler. I was an A student in everything except those classes that required some kind of manual dexterity, like art and cooking and sewing. (By the time I finished my 8th grade sewing project, a blouse, my bust had grown three sizes and the darts were up near my neck.)

So, when the instructor showed us this palm tree project, I nearly keeled over with the familiar fear I hadn’t felt in a hundred years. If he thinks I can do this, he’s crazy. But, once he broke it down for us, and showed us how to use the scissor tool and the knife tool and the swirl tool, and color it with gradients, and use the warp feature to make the flowers and the paintbrush for the butterflies, I was a frigging desktop Michelangelo.

I really fell in love with this program and labored far too long and unnecessarily on projects, because I went bananas over the zillion permutations of color and typography. All the while, I was thinking, am I ever going to get to use this in a job?

Illustrator was a kick, and then it was on to Photoshop, where fun went to die. I know there are lots of people who have wonderful and no doubt, well-paying jobs in digital imaging, but I will never be one of them. I just could not get the hang of it, though, believe me, I tried. I was not good at adjusting colors. I couldn’t crop photos without lopping off at least one important feature. I couldn’t outline an image. I’d forget step two of a procedure by the time we got to step five. I was working on a photo of Martha Stewart and I made her skin look like she’d been out of the sun for twenty years, which may have been a premonition, but at the time seemed to be merely an abject failure to grasp the fundamentals. The person sitting next to me, who seemed to be doing wonderfully well, confided that this was the second time she was taking the course. Somehow, I found this heartening.

I was able to practice what I learned in the school’s lab, which was outfitted with a half-dozen computers, a scanner and one printer. The lab was supervised by a boy genius, who seemed to know every single thing about every single program that was taught at the school. I was in awe of his knowledge, because I never once heard him lobbed a question that he couldn’t answer. Not only did he know everything about computer graphics, but also he was well-versed in Web design, video, and multimedia. While it was always necessary to endure his sarcasm whenever he answered a question, it was worth it in order to get through a sticky situation. The programs were anything but user-friendly. You’d be halfway through a procedure when you’d find that you didn’t have a clue as to what to do next. That’s when this fellow became your new best friend. Many was the time when I wanted to give him a big sloppy kiss for getting me out of a jam, but I didn’t want to traumatize him, Oedipus-wise.

I ran into difficulty with him when it came to the issue of printing. I like to print out my work, because when you’re working with lots of colors and fonts, what appears on the screen is not quite the same as what will appear on paper. As I didn’t own a Mac, I could either go to a commercial printer, where printing cost about a thousand dollars a page, or I could use the lab’s printer. Unfortunately, students were limited to printing four pages a session. (I didn’t understand the parsimonious attitude at the time, but I found out later that it was tied to the cost of color cartridges, which, for the price plus a little extra, you could buy a MINI Cooper.)

I changed my color and type combinations about 10 times a session, so the print limit didn’t work for me. Worse, I brought my own photo-quality paper to the lab, so it was obvious whenever I printed, because I had to walk over to the printer, feed the paper in manually, and stand there until the page printed. This seemed to eat at my lab maven. I’d try to print when he was busy with someone else, but the very last time I was there, he noticed that I had printed beyond my limit and cut me to the quick by sneering, “This isn’t Kinko’s, you know.”

*

I signed up for one last class, in prepress and production, because all of the foregoing would have been meaningless without it (though no one put me wise at the outset.) It means nothing to create newsletters, brochures, ads and the like if you don’t know how to print them. The course was very interesting and very involved and today, I remember very little about any of it.

And there is the miserable rub. I learned tons of things about hue, saturation and opacity; about gradients and layers and formats; about leading and tracking and trapping and overprinting and chokes and spreads; about calibrating and moirés and process colors, but, other than to amuse myself and my classmates, I haven’t been able to do a damned thing with any of it. Of course, I read the want ads with a religious fervor unseen since Mother Teresa. The problem is, there isn’t an employer alive who doesn’t want an applicant who already has years of desktop publishing experience by the time she walks through the door. I’d dearly love to meet a boss willing to take on a bright beginner. (Wouldn’t you?)

And so, I’m glad that I had the chance to acquire new skills and find out that I have some design talent. Going to class mitigated, for a while, the anguish of being out of work. And I absolutely know that my elementary school art teacher, Mrs. Barnett, is looking down on me from heaven (if she’s dead) (she’d be about 100 by now) with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

Hey, if nothing happens soon, at least I can design my Last Will and Testament (but where, oh where, will I print it?)

Nutkin Rules

2004-11-11T01:55:00.000-05:00

*

A 57-year old woman gave birth to twins. I wonder if post-partum depression trumps menopause.

*

Ex-"Catwoman," Julie Newmar and Jim Belushi are feuding neighbors in California. Sound like the plot for a TV show? Well, it's true, and he's suing her for harassment. Watch for the new CBS series, "I'm Has-been, You're Hack, starring Eartha Kitt and Drew Carey.

*

A wild squirrel named Nutkin can live indoors with his owners, a judge ruled in an 11-page opinion. All the felons patiently awaiting trial gave Nutkin a thumbs-up as he darted victoriously from the courtroom.

Smart Cookies Don't Crumble

2004-11-09T01:40:00.000-05:00

I don't feel so bad now that it took me almost three years to find a job. In Bulgaria, a woman with an IQ of 200 and five master's degrees is on the dole. She said, "In Bulgaria, employers don't want clever employees." Take it from me, lady, they're not so crazy about them in the U. S. of A., either.

A few months ago, I received in the mail a full-color brochure that touted the offerings of a big cable company. I was going to toss it immediately because at that point, I could barely afford dinner, let alone anything as frivolous as an entertainment package. However, something made me take a look. I was appalled by the sloppy writing within. There were typos, misspellings, tortured grammatical constructions, and factual errors. My immediate reaction was, someone's getting paid for this dreck. I could do it so much better; so much more professionally. I decided to take action.

Maybe, just maybe, I could create a job for myself. This has always been my hope. I've had little luck applying for jobs through Monster, Hot Jobs, and the like. Maybe this could be my chance.

Coincidentally, I had a contact at this company; someone whose name I had been given by a friend months before in my tortuous attempt at networking. I sat down and wrote this person a letter, tactfully explaining that the brochure was not up to the organization's usual high standards. I documented all of the problem areas and let this person know that I was available, if the firm needed a diligent copywriter. I ended my letter by saying I would be calling within the week.

Two days later, this person called me. She said that she and her colleague, the vice president of the department that produced the brochure, had a good laugh about the subject. This was more than a little surprising to me. I didn't think that this badly written brochure was anything to laugh about, but I went along. She said the production VP would be calling me. An hour later, she did. She seemed a little distant; a little put off about having to call. Nevertheless, she asked me to come in and see her, and I did.

At our meeting, she told me that the copywriter who wrote the brochure (rather than being fired) had just left for a job with a major advertising agency. There actually was a job opening here!! What fabulous timing! I was thinking this at the same time I was absorbing the fact that that talentless copywriter had landed another job. I bet he didn't show his new employer that piece-of-crap brochure!

You know that feeling you get when you realize that someone hates you before she even lays eyes on you? Well, welcome to my world. I knew from the moment I sat down that this woman hated my guts for pointing out to her colleague the failing of her department. I cannot imagine how this woman let a sloppy marketing piece be mailed out to thousands of customers, but she did, and now she was having it shoved under her nose by an upstart like me. I knew for sure that it was hopeless when I showed her my writing samples and she glanced at them for a minute before she handed them back to me. I said that she could keep them; that they were copies that I had made for her, but she said no. I might as well have walked out of the office at that moment, and saved myself a little time and a lot of aggravation.

Why was she telling me about the job when she seemed to show no interest in me? In retrospect, I think she had to see me; that the colleague who recommended me had put her in an awkward position. Refusing to see me would have cast her in a bad light; having to deny that the brochure was a problem. No one likes to have their failings brought to light, even if it's good for the company's reputation.

At the end of our discourse, I asked her what the next steps would be. She said she was just starting the interview process. I asked if I could call her for an update, and she was annoyed. Annoyed! That clinched it. I knew I'd never see her again. Another wonderful interview experience. I should have stayed home and watched Oprah.

In retrospect, I'm not sorry for what I did, and I'd do it again. I don't think anyone should get away with sloppy work. I thought I handled myself well. I was tactful and polite and I never said a negative word about the company, the writer, or the brochure. I presented myself as a positive alternative. In short, I wasted a lot of time.

As that smart cookie from Bulgaria said, "employers don't want clever employees." But that's not going to stop me. And, if you're looking for work, it shouldn't stop you, either. Somebody, somewhere has to appreciate smart cookies. To those of you who can appreciate this, I say, persevere, and don't crumble.

Book excerpt - Blown Job: Chapter 2

2004-11-07T05:52:00.000-05:00

Art Bras

2004-11-06T01:59:00.000-05:00

*

An F-16 fighter plane shot 25 rounds of ammunition into a New Jersey public school on Wednesday night. Casualties include eighteen frogs, three lab rats, and Corky the salamander, who is missing in action.

*

On the Left Coast, a supposed golf tournament turned out to be an excuse for men to hook up with hookers in tents on the green. I guess that's what they mean by "the California Open."

*

In Arkansas, a man escaped from jail twice in the same week. Is this what is meant by "revolving-door justice?"

*

A woman cut off her boyfriend's penis and got rid of it. She won't say where. I'm guessing eBay.

*

A man tried to rob a bank that was still being built. He had a gun, which was said to be loaded with six handkerchiefs labeled "Bang."

*

A tanker truck spilled 45,000 pounds of liquid chocolate on a highway, which then hardened. Watch for Mars' new promotion: M&M's –now with gravel!
*

In North Dakota, women are decorating bras and displaying them at an art center. The D cups have their own wing.

Sore Feet, Bleary Eyes, and a Big Fat Smile

2004-11-04T22:30:00.000-05:00

I am pleased to announce to the world, that after two and a half excruciating years, I finally found a job. I have been working four days and I am ready to take a vacation. I forgot what it's like to stand on the train for an hour and take my meal break when somebody tells me to and stifle a yawn while my boss is giving me directions. But it's wonderful! I have a boss! I have a place to be! I'm bleary-eyed from working, not because I stayed up late to watch Letterman!

Next week, I'm going to see something I thought I'd never see again – a paycheck! I've already spent a piece of it on a new pair of shoes, and for the first time in ages, I don't feel guilty about buying something for myself.

If anyone reading this knows the feeling of desperation that comes from receiving endless rejection, I encourage you to hang in there. I was thisclose to calling it quits, when nothing short of a miracle happened. I didn't think it was possible.

It all came about through a temporary job. I would encourage anyone who is out of work to pursue temporary employment. It's the best way for an employer to get to know you, and it doesn't carry anywhere near the heavy baggage that a permanent job interview does.

I have to go to sleep now. I have somewhere to be tomorrow!