February 19, 2004

In the midst of all my rage about my job, I've come to a very frightening and disheartening decision.  They can take this job and shove it.  I've sent out countless resumes in the past few months and obviously these haven't been good enough for the prospective
employer.  I have a sneaking suspicion it's not because of my lack of experience but because I don't print my resume on 'resume paper' that I'm not getting the interviews I think I deserve.  What the fuck!!  I can hardly afford a paper plate, let alone an economy-sized pack of resume paper.  Why is it that employers expect this from applicants?  They'd accept a piece of shit, as long as it was printed on pretty resume paper.  I refuse to bow down to this stupid ritual.  

In the meantime, my worthless job has forced me to take on a slightly more meaningful second job.  I had it once before but quit because it was sucking out the little bit of life I had left in me.  At any rate, the
higher-ups at the local grade school called this week and asked if I'd please take my former position back. Earlier this year I worked as a teacher's aid for the after school program.  It's not a bad deal, $7.50 an hour for watching someone else's kids.  Hell, that's more than they paid me when I first started working here... yeah, I made less than $7.50 an hour with a 4-year college degree.  Sick, isn't it.  

At any rate, I've decided to take the little rugrats up on their offer.  After all, I still have a soft spot in my heart for them.  I miss little Walter who attempted to molest me on a daily basis.  "Come sit next to me, Miss Randi."  When I left the little bugger gave me a hug and snuck a little kiss on my cheek.  Then there's Malcolm.  I've never seen a kid puke as much as him.  I'd worked for about 5 months
without having to deal with vomit, then on my last day I turned to look across the playground and there was little Malcolm hunched over puking his guts out.  A semi-circle of kids were gathered around him, pointing and laughing.  When I asked if he was okay, he said he was fine, that he just got nervous about playing football.  The poor kid...I sometimes forget how traumatizing childhood can be.

Then there's Christina, the only girl I've ever known to cry over a fart.  She was sobbing one day because the other kids said she farted.  I could NOT contain my laughter on this one.  I laughed but assured her that EVERYONE farts, even Miss Randi.  I think I'm the
only adult in that school that cracks up every time a kid breaks wind.  I can't help myself, I'm a sucker for vulgar humor.  

Well, Adam and I are headed back up to Wheeling this weekend for some more fun with the parental units.  My dad called yesterday and asked why we were coming up on the weekend after Valentine's Day.  Being the pessimist that I am, I assumed it was because he thought we had broken up and that I was really coming home alone.  I told him there was no reason, we just wanted to get out of Charleston for the weekend.  He then says, "Oh, I thought maybe you had an
announcement."  Apparently he's been talking to my grandmother!!  I don't mind that my family would think that Adam and I got engaged but please give us a little more credit, there's no way in hell we'd get
engaged on such a stupid holiday like Valentine's Day. I think I would kill myself before I accepted a ring on this Hallmark holiday!!

My brother was also planning on going home over the weekend but has decided to change his plans since he found out he'd have the apartment to himself.  He says he's planning on "Pimpin' it out and gettin' mad ho's at the club."  It cracks me up that my brother calls
Banana Joe's Island Party, the club.  "I gotta go to the club and get me some ho's."  Banana Joe's is not a club and while filled with ho's, it cannot be described as a place to "hook-up."  BJ's or Banana Ho's, as my friends and I like to call it, is apparently the hotspot in Charleston.  This is where everyone goes, young and old alike.  I have to admit, I do like it there but only as a place to get shitty drunk and watch the scummy people try to dance.  I kid you not, one weekend I looked across the dance floor and saw my brother dancing with and kissing a girl missing a "toof."  The best part...her husband was dancing behind her as she grabbed my brother's "cock and balls."  Later on that night, he comes up to me and says, "Yo, I ain't never had a bitch grab my cock and balls like dat."  These are the things my brother tells me, as if I want to even know that he has a set of "cock and balls."  As far as I'm concerned my brother is asexual and should have no desire to procreate!!  Well, I'm off to the homeland...have a
good weekend everyone and feel free to e-mail any comments to randiwvu@yahoo.com


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