July 24, 2007

-- I was at Target on Sunday and ran into a guy I used to work with. He’s in the same unemployment boat as I am, only he’d been working there for 27 years, and I’d only managed to log 17. 

He was buying a printer cartridge and paper, so he could crank out more resumes.

We stood and talked, over near the bath towels, and his horror stories sounded vaguely familiar. He told me about going on multiple interviews with the same company, then never hearing from them again. He said there doesn’t seem to be even a hint of urgency with any of the people he’s dealing with. And he complained that Monster and CareerBuilder are a complete waste of time.

Somehow this made me feel a little better; at least I had anecdotal evidence that it might not be just me. But when I told Toney about it she had a completely different reaction. She saw it as an indication of there being few good jobs available, and lots of competition when one does open up.

For an afternoon we considered folding up our tent here, and Moving South. Again. But those ideas have already started to fade a bit. There are several huge negatives to such a scenario, which can flat-out ruin a good fantasy 

One thing’s for certain though, if something hasn’t broken by early fall we’re going to have to take some kind of drastic action. 

And by “something” I mean a new job or, even better, the website/book situation kicking into gear. Over the past few months there’s been amazing progress on the latter, and it gives me dangerous thoughts about maybe, just possibly, doing it full-time someday. And that, of course, would be the freakin’ dream come true.

Stay tuned. Either I'll find a job and nothing much will change, the gods of comedy writing will smile down on me, we'll end up homeless and living in a lettuce box, or uproot everything and move to the Land of Opportunity (AKA North Carolina).

The next few months should be interesting.

-- When I’m here in the bunker doing tedious website maintenance and other such crapola, I often listen to talk radio. This site is an excellent resource for finding shows I’ve never heard before, and I sample as many as possible.

A few days ago I was listening to something, and it ended. Then Dr. Laura came on. I’m not much of a fan, but I was in the middle of something and didn’t immediately turn it off.

A woman called in and said she loves her husband, but doesn’t feel a strong connection to him during sex. Immediately before and after, no problem. But during the act itself she’s only thinking about herself, and feels guilty about it.

Laura told her it’s nothing abnormal, that when a person is “powering toward orgasm” they’re only concentrating on getting there.

And I think I threw up a little inside my mouth. Powering? Dr. Laura?! It’s a vision I fear I’ll never be able to erase. Isn’t she, like, a grandmother, or something? I don’t want to hear about her powering. I really don't.

One of the reasons I don’t like to listen to her show, besides all the horrifying orgasm talk, is the way she treats her callers. Especially the women. Yeah, many of ‘em deserve it, but does she have to be so brutal? She almost makes me feel sorry for the poor, misguided hickettes.

Here’s how it often seems to go:

“Dr. Low-ra (apparently a large portion of the population cannot properly pronounce Laura), my boyfriend cheated on me last year with a man who does oil changes down at the Jiffy Lube. I still love him, and forgave him…”

“You’re pathetic! You spineless, babbling idiot. Why don’t you grow a pair and quit being such a whiny stupid bitch?”

“But Low-ra, you’re my hero--”

“Get off my radio show, you quivering bag o’ shit! …Julie in Des Moines , you’re next!”

At the same time, she often asks the wrong questions, and I find it to be highly frustrating. For instance:

“Thank you for taking my cawl Dr. Low-ra. Following the birth of our seventh child, my husband stopped wanting to have sex with me. We used to do it all the time, but now he just sits in front of his computer mumbling and crying…”

At this point Dr. Laura can be counted on to say, “Well, what’s changed?” But there are lots of other questions I believe should be asked. 

Like: “Yeah, and how much do you now weigh?” (“513, Low-ra. But I’m working on it.”)

Or: “Seventh child?? Jesus woman, you ever heard of birth control? He’s probably afraid to let his wiener out into the open air, for fear of triggering number eight!”

You know, stuff like that.

-- And speaking of 513, we were in Sam’s on Sunday, right after my Target encounter, and saw something amazing. I tried to get a picture with my cell phone, but it didn’t work out…

It was two morbidly obese people (I mean, this pair made me look like a prancing sprite of a man), a man and a woman, looking at one of these chocolate fountains. 

Good stuff. I had visions of them taking it home, setting it up between their La-Z-Boy recliners, filling it with ranch dressing, and turning on "the race."

-- I have more, but I need to quit right here. Toney just informed me we’re going to Knoebels today. We’d talked about going on Thursday, but it’s supposed to rain. And the oldest Secret’s friend can’t go tomorrow, or some deal.

So, in a couple of hours I will apparently be at an amusement park. It’s quite disconcerting, this flying by the seat of our pants…  But I’ll tell you all about it next time. 

You guys have yourselves a great day, y’hear?  

See ya tomorrow.



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