As I sit at home wondering when I will get the next call from a prospective employer, there is a proofreader somewhere who is failing miserably at what they are supposedly good at doing.
My post about the Big City Slider Station continues to get hits to this day; many readers leaving comments about how they experienced the same thing as we did when their burgers turned silver. Hopefully, they are as lucky I am and have their money returned once they contact the manufacturer.
But we did have one nifty machine left, one that has been sitting on top of the fridge for a long time and we just don’t use too often. And it’s name is the Sunbeam Rocket Grill.
As you can tell, we have yet to remove the sticker on the front of the grill which touts the machine’s features. That’s just how often we use the thing. But after being in a position where we didn’t want to fire up the barbecue or use the stove, this little griller came in handy. Here’s what you do.
As the adventure that is my life continues to unfold with so much drama, I do have some good news to share.
First, I’m not going to mention anything about jobs and such so as not to jinx them. But I’m confident that things are going to turn around and soon. There are several things brewing in the near future and I can almost taste them. It’s a great feeling to have.
I also went down to Apple One and went through the whole interviewing process there. Thanks for the tip, Harna!
Secondly, I’ve applied for unemployment and yes, food stamps. If you read my HubPages post you’d know that I have no shame in doing so. It’s definitely a sign of the times. The way I see it, I’ve been paying into the system for years and haven’t tapped into it one bit, so now in my time of need I think I’m due. Damnit.
Thirdly, you may recall the saga of Ann’s prescriptions or lack thereof. While there was a glimmer of hope a few days later, things got even brighter yesterday when she got a letter from the Bridges to Access program stating that she was eligible for a year’s worth of her medication. And today, this came in the mail:
Things are slowly starting to turn around.
And Ann just fell asleep watching The Lawrence Welk Show. I think I’m with her on that one.
No, that title doesn’t imply that the blog will be changing any time soon. What it does imply is that, while I’m out of work, I’m trying some different things just to keep my sanity and to perhaps generate some money.
The first thing I did was start contributing to HubPages, site that uses Google AdSense to help generate revenue for the writers. And so far, it’s worked: I earned one whole penny today!
At any rate, go on over and check it out. A few clicks here and there definitely won’t hurt anybody and the more hits, the more revenue I can possibly generate. I may use posts that I’ve already written here but for the most part they will be new and original stuff, like this article about my adventures in Food Stamp Land.
Another thing I did during this down time was make a quick recording of my voice, or an aircheck, for whatever reason. Maybe someone will hear it and say, “Hey, this guy’s gooood! Let’s offer him a job doing voiceovers!”
Not bloody likely but at this point in my life, I’ve got nothing to lose. So if you’re so inclined, here’s the clip for your enjoyment (and no, it’s not an homage to Mr. Microphone):
Now you know how I sound. Amazing, no? Just keep in mind a few things:
I don’t always sound so nasally. I’m still fighting off a cold or something and when I really try and am not stuffy, I sound much better.
I used the USB microphone that came with my Rock Band set, so the audio probably isn’t as clear as it should be.
I couldn’t think of anything else to say. This was off the top of my head and boy, you should have heard the not-saved outtakes.
The job search continues but to no avail after three whole days of unemployment. But I am going to a local temp agency tomorrow to see if they can help me out with something.
If not, it looks like I’ll be grabbing a ghetto blaster, Mr. Microphone, a sombrero and taking my fabulous voice to the streets and start rapping about BluBlockers*.
*Check the 5th bullet on my About page for some personal, relevant trivia
It was almost prophetic the way so many little strange things that sort led up to what happened at work today.
For one, I told one of my co-workers that it was going to be difficult to be at work today after a busy weekend.
Second, my manager was referring to a specific program on her computer that, if I had access to it, would allow me to look up the information on my own. When she told me she’d get me trained on it I jokingly told her, “Oh, there’ll be no need for that.”
“Why?”
“I…I just don’t think that…anyway, here’s what I wanted to ask you,” I said as I changed the subject. She looked curiously at me.
Then shortly after our little dialog, we were told that there was going to be a company-wide meeting at 8:30 am. And if I know anything, I know that company-wide meetings are never good things.
While driving home from work the other day, I witnessed a curious sight that made me want to punch the face of the person committing the crime.
I was sitting at a red light when I saw a teen driver on the opposite side of the intersection waiting for traffic to clear so he could make a left turn.
As he waited to turn, I couldn’t help but notice the cigarette that was dangling from left hand outside the window. Strike One.
Then as he continued to creep forward, I saw that he was looking down, then up, then down, then up. Shortly after that he raised his hand and, as you might have guessed by now, he was using it to send text messages. Strike Two.
And as if that wasn’t enough, in the middle of it all he was distracted by a young lady riding her bike on the sidewalk.
Strike Three—get your ass out of the car and sit down for your tongue-lashing.
Look here, you fucking twat waffle. Have we learned nothing about the dangers of texting while driving? I know that at 18 you think you’re fucking invincible and that you’re never going to die, but guess what? Shit happens—really bad shit happens and one day, whether through your own fault, at the hands of another or just nature taking its course, you will die.
I sincerely hope that one day, just for the sake of karma, you’re rear-ended by one of your high school cronies that was texting one of their friends. If that’s what it takes for all of you to learn your lesson, then so be it. Hell, this goes for adults, too.
In the event that the aforementioned scenario never takes place, what schools need today is a new version of Scared Straight! or an updated, even more graphic [and high definition] version of Red Asphalt (WARNING: cheesy but you’ll see some brain soup) to teach these little shitheads the importance of paying fucking attention while driving. This goes for you too, Maria Shriver, because cutesy little dioramas featuring the school’s best thespians fall short telling the real stories.
I may be coming off like an ass here but I take such a stand because I’ve got a family to look after and with a road filled with assholes such as yourself not paying attention to how they are driving, within seconds my house could be home to a widow and orphan—and the typesetting kind.
Ahem. That’s all I got. Oh, except for a quick note to that other teenager who, following the rules of the road, rode his bike past me before I made a right turn onto my street.
I’ve got nothing against your cycling skills, kid, but you sure as shit could use a haircut because you looked like one of these idiots.
In my previous post I had mentioned that we couldn’t afford to buy Ann’s Advair inhalers because of their ridiculous cost of $300 (without health insurance).
This is when it pays to work in a medical center.
After hearing of her plight from Ann’s father (who also works there), one of the local doctors decided that this wasn’t the way things should be and handed Ann’s dad the following:
Two samples of Advair. Now the two of us can breathe again, Ann literally and me figuratively. And this is what being a doctor is about: caring for the needs of your patients and helping those who need it, not letting them suffer because the cost of their prescriptions are astronomical.
Okay, other things. Because of the whole layoff thing and me working a suck-ass job, naturally, we have had to let some things fall by the wayside. One of those things is a credit card that I have been sending some cash here and there but not exactly what they are asking for.
So now it’s come to a point where the India-based autodialer keeps punching in my number and calling me (which is the card issuer’s right, I suppose) at home and on my cell phone. While the name and number appear on my home phone, they don’t on my cell phone.
Rather than have to reach into my pocket every single time they call to see who it is, I decided to save the number and assign these guys their own ringtone, which is below:
Not only does that song rock even decades later, it also tips me off as to who is calling. If you can’t figure it out, well, I could help you but it really is pretty obvious.
Don’t hurt your brains to hard in trying to figure out the issuing bank, people
Dave is a 40-something father and husband that has been blogging since 2004. He has also worked as a magazine writer and proofreader for several publications.
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Dave is a 40-something father and husband that has been blogging since 2004. He has also worked as a magazine writer and proofreader for several publications.
2009/10/28
Have We Learned Nothing?
Posted by Dave under Commentary/Opinion, Complaint | Tags: smoking, stupid people, teen drivers, texting, texting while driving |[2] Comments
I was sitting at a red light when I saw a teen driver on the opposite side of the intersection waiting for traffic to clear so he could make a left turn.
As he waited to turn, I couldn’t help but notice the cigarette that was dangling from left hand outside the window. Strike One.
Then as he continued to creep forward, I saw that he was looking down, then up, then down, then up. Shortly after that he raised his hand and, as you might have guessed by now, he was using it to send text messages. Strike Two.
And as if that wasn’t enough, in the middle of it all he was distracted by a young lady riding her bike on the sidewalk.
Strike Three—get your ass out of the car and sit down for your tongue-lashing.
Look here, you fucking twat waffle. Have we learned nothing about the dangers of texting while driving? I know that at 18 you think you’re fucking invincible and that you’re never going to die, but guess what? Shit happens—really bad shit happens and one day, whether through your own fault, at the hands of another or just nature taking its course, you will die.
I sincerely hope that one day, just for the sake of karma, you’re rear-ended by one of your high school cronies that was texting one of their friends. If that’s what it takes for all of you to learn your lesson, then so be it. Hell, this goes for adults, too.
In the event that the aforementioned scenario never takes place, what schools need today is a new version of Scared Straight! or an updated, even more graphic [and high definition] version of Red Asphalt (WARNING: cheesy but you’ll see some brain soup) to teach these little shitheads the importance of paying fucking attention while driving. This goes for you too, Maria Shriver, because cutesy little dioramas featuring the school’s best thespians fall short telling the real stories.
I may be coming off like an ass here but I take such a stand because I’ve got a family to look after and with a road filled with assholes such as yourself not paying attention to how they are driving, within seconds my house could be home to a widow and orphan—and the typesetting kind.
I’ve got nothing against your cycling skills, kid, but you sure as shit could use a haircut because you looked like one of these idiots.
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Now playing: John Lennon – Instant Karma
via FoxyTunes
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