Adventures in Job-Hunting

Since I lost my job last month after my hospitalizations, I've been in the middle of a job search lately. After reading ads posted on craigslist until my eyeballs rolled back in my head, I decided to try posting my rèsumé there as well.

So far, I've received two or three legitimate inquiries. However most of the responses I've received have sounded more like this:

From: jeff employer (yes, it really did come from the name "jeff employer)
Date: 6/11/2007 12:56:46 PM
To: easywork002@hot...com
Subject: EASY JOB FOR YOU...

Hello ,

I am Jeff last name omitted ,i am a staff of a sales company in new york and work and make transaction nationwide , So we are needing a respresentative who will be mailing out of mails for us nationwide the work will be done from your home and it is a very easy job and we pay good salary , the job can only involve you in 3 to 4 hours daily and we pay $1000-$1500 monthly .

So let me know if you are interested . i want you to reply me and i want you to add me to your yahoo ms with : last name omitted_jeff ,you should download yahoo ms in messenger.yahoo.com so our work can be more easy and understandable .

I will you to get back to me with which of the item below got

colour Printer
Check paper
personal
computer

Wait to hear from you .

Jeff

What the heck??? What the heck is a yahoo ms??? A yahoo with Multiple Sclerosis??? Do you think maybe he means IMs??? "More easy and understandable???" I can hardly understand this!

I like "i am a staff of a sales company" and "mailing out of mails for us". "I will you to get back to me with which of the item below got" I think I have a personal, but that's, well... personal.

Jeff can sit around and will me all he wants, I ain't going to reply him tellin' him which of the item below got.

This Week's Theme: Art

This week's Saturday Photo Scavenger Hunt theme is "Art":


My first thought when I saw this painting was that this chick is in serious need of some mousse. Talk about a bad home perm! This woman is probably rolling over in her grave right now. Can you imagine not only having a really bad hair day immortalized on canvas for a few hundred years, but having it displayed publicly for people like me to make fun of centuries later?

To read more about my love and appreciation of fine art, click here.

An Update...

After 40+ years of never having to spend a night in the hospital, I've been there twice within the past month. Seems somehow I ended up with a case of cellulitis (a bacterial infection of the deep layers of skin) first in one leg, and then about 3 weeks later in the other leg. Both required a few days of IV antibiotics. So, I had 2 relaxing weekend getaways at the luxurious New York Hospital Queens, complete with deluxe accommodations and fabulous cuisine.
I learned a few things while I was there:

1. IVs don't actually hurt. Thanks to advances in technology, IVs don't require an actual needle sticking in your arm. They use a very comfortable piece of flexible plastic of some sort. Aside from the few occasions where I bent my elbow a bit too far, I hardly knew it was there.
2. Likewise for getting shots in one's stomach. While I was there, they decided I needed daily shots of Heparin to avoid the possibility of developing blood clots. I thought for sure it was going to hurt like hell. Surprisingly, I didn't feel a thing. So, if you ever find yourself in a similar position, rest assured that getting injections in your stomach doesn't hurt at all, unless someone screws up.
3. Hospital TV is BORING!!! If you're lucky, you'll get a few basic cable channels in addition to regular network TV. I couldn't wait to get home to my 6,000 channels, premium channels, and "on-demand" cable services!
4. There is no such thing as getting 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep at night. Someone's always coming in either to change your IV, check your blood pressure and temperature at each change of shift, or give you a shot of something. Forget sleeping past 6am! First the night shift will come in to check your stats before going off-duty at 7am. Then, the morning shift will come in to check those same stats about an hour later. This is followed by morning rounds, where several doctors will appear at the foot of your bed to examine you, discuss your case and your progress, and make small talk. If you're lucky, about an hour after they leave, your breakfast will arrive.
5. Hospital food isn't as horrible as people make it sound, unless you're on some sort of restricted diet. I wasn't, and I actually ate pretty well while I was there. Except for the 2 occasions where someone messed up and lost my lunch menu, and I almost ended up without any food.
6. When choosing your meals from the daily menus, be sure to circle a few extra items to stash away, in case you get hungry later on. You'd be amazed at how hungry you can get between meals. This is especially true between lunch and dinner, and between dinner and breakfast the following morning. If it hadn't been for my stash, my growling stomach would've kept everyone on the floor awake at night!
7. Be very nice to your nurses, nursing assistants and anyone else responsible for your care while you're there. A little kindness goes a long way, especially if you find yourself having to go back to the hospital again. I was very fortunate to have some of the nicest and best nurses and nursing assistants taking care of me during both of my hospital stays. Some remembered me from my first visit, and took extra special care of me. I'm glad I was nice to them the first time around! Seriously, though, the nurses and nursing assistants work long, hard shifts and have to care for a lot of people in that time. I don't think I could do it all as well as they do.

Warning: The Following is Gross (but funny!)

My sister called yesterday afternoon, and after we were done talking, she put my 8 year old niece on the phone, who's been sick the past few days. I asked her how she was feeling, and somehow, the conversation got on the topic of VOMIT. (Not that I had anything to do with that, of course!)

She asked me if I remembered the time she vomited in her mom and dad's bed. She said she remembers saying that it looked like lemonade because it was all yellow and liquidy. She went on to tell me that she remembers one other time that she vomited, and it looked like meatloaf. She then explained to me that there are two kinds of vomit - the lemonade kind, and the meatloaf kind.

I don't need to tell you that at this point I'm HOWLING with laughter on the other end of the phone, so much so that I can't talk! When I finally caught my breath, I said "You're really funny!" And she said...

"I know. I'm a natural."

Which, of course, led to another round of me laughing my ass off, at which point I told her to wait while I wrote it down.

"What are you writing down? About the meatloaf vomit?"

"Yes, so I don't forget it." (Although I think it's highly unlikely that I'll ever get THAT image out of my head!)

I Feel Pretty! Oh So Pretty!

So, I wake up feeling better after several days of a nasty upper respiratory "bug". However, when I looked in the bathroom mirror, I discovered that  I looked like Robert DeNiro in "Raging Bull".

Actually, with my "bed head", I looked worse. My left eye was all red and swollen. Lucky me, I've got "pink eye"! It's bad enough having to walk around looking like I just went ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Not being able to wear any makeup only adds insult to injury. The result is very attractive.

I'd probably be crying if it wasn't so darn comical.

Wednesday in the Car with Erica

This was the conversation in the car on the way to the mall this afternoon:

My niece: "And my brother kicked me right in my weiner!"

My sister: "You don't have a weiner. Only boys have weiners."

"What's a weiner?"

"A penis. You're a girl. You don't have a penis, and you don't have a weiner."

"What do I have? A cookie?"

Me: Snorts of laughter

"What's a crotch?"

"It's where your private parts are."

"Do girls have crotches?"

"Yes."

"But they don't have weiners?"

"Right."

"And my brother kicked me right in the crotch!"

Me: "Oh, I wish I was an Oscar Mayer Weiner..."

"What did you say, Auntie Carol?"

Me: "Never mind"

The Things I Learn on "Dr. 90210"

Until a few minutes ago, I was blissfully unaware of the phenomenon known as a "hidden penis", also known as a "buried penis". At least I was until I tuned into this week's episode of Dr. 90210. "A hidden penis is like a telescope", according to Dr. Gary Alter. Apparently, a "hidden penis" is a condition where the penile shaft is buried below the surface of the pubic skin. In the past five minutes, I have heard the words "hidden penis" more than twenty times. I now have a case of "hidden penis on the brain" and know more about "hidden penii" than I ever wanted to know.

This episode seems to be pretty penis-focused. Another segment is now dealing with the circumcision of Dr. Li's new son's penis. I wish I had a dollar for every time the word "penis" was mentioned. By the end of the hour, I could rest easily, knowing my rent, credit card and utility bills would all be paid - for the rest of the year.

My favorite line of Dr. Alter's though, had to be "Your penis doesn't have anywhere to go anymore". What? Was it planning a trip or something?

Don't Try This at Home!

Someone on the Sweet Potato Queens message board started a discussion a while back about the worst idea you've ever had. I wrote about it back when I wasn't updating my blog as regularly, and figured I'd share it. So, here's my personal contribution to the world's list of really stupid ideas:

Microwaving a Barbie doll to see what would happen, while on the phone with my friend in California.

First, her face and hair melted. Then, the metal in her legs sparked, her rubber legs caught fire and filled my apartment with the smell of burning Barbie flesh. This, in turn, set off my smoke alarm. So, I flung her out of the microwave and into a zip-loc bag, and tossed her in the freezer to cool off.

All of this was happening as I was giving my friend a play-by-play over the phone. We were laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. We named her "Three Mile Island Barbie" aka "Nuclear Meltdown Barbie". I completely forgot about her, and found her in my freezer several months later.

The worst (and most embarassing) part of the whole thing is that I did this as a "grown-up", and no alcohol was involved. I was 40 years old and stone cold sober at the time.

I learned that a microwave is not a proper Barbie tanning salon. I also learned that Molten Barbie-flavored Lean Cuisines do not taste very good.

God Has a Twisted Sense of Humor

God has a twisted sense of humor. Christmas Eve Mass last night proved it for me beyond a doubt.

I wasn't looking forward to going to Mass last night with my mother. Not because I was going with my mother, but I was just feeling really "blah" about having to go to Church. Usually, getting there is the hardest part. Once I'm there, I get the whole Christmas spirit thing going and I'm fine. Not this time.

This time, on my walk to the Church, I started talking to God about how I need to work on being less snarky, and could use a bit of help. I got to Church fifteen minutes early, and the first thing I noticed when I entered the Church was that there was a huge strand of cobweb that looked like a giant rope of dust above the statue of Jesus. It was so big that He looked like He was planning to hang himself with it. I was still feeling "blah" and devoid of Christmas spirit by the time Mass started. So, I started talking to God about how, for some reason, I just wasn't feeling my usual Christmas Mass "exceeding great joy". Well, be careful what you pray for...

The priest celebrating the Mass turns out to be "Father Visitor from Viet Nam". The problem with "Father Visitor" wasn't his accent, which was relatively easy to understand. No, the problem with "Father Visitor" was his singing. It was, in a word, awful. Probably the worst singing I have ever heard in my life. Worse than anything on William Hung's "Hung for the Holidays" CD. Yes, it was that bad. Worse, "Father Visitor" apparently loved to sing, because not only did he sing the hymns, he sang/chanted every part of the Mass that could possibly be sung. He was so tone deaf and off-key that the only way I knew he'd finally reached the end of a prayer was by the well-tuned "A-mens" inserted at various points by the men's choir. It was so awful, that of course, I found it hilariously funny.

So, here I am, standing in the pew next to my mother, with my eyes devoutly gazing up towards Heaven in prayer. Well, at least that's what anyone who happened to look at me would think. Actually, I was staring very hard at the stars on the Church ceiling, comparing "Father Visitor" to William Hung on the pulpit, thinking "I am going straight to hell for this", and trying desperately not to snort during the Our Father. The final straw came during the Eucharistic Prayer, when Father Visitor said what sounded like "He took the bread in his severed hand". It took me a few seconds to realize that he said sacred, and not severed. I'm definitely watching too much CSI these days.

The end result was that I left Church ready to bust a gut laughing. I also learned that God definitely has a twisted sense of humor, and that there is a difference between being snarky and being able to see the humor in a situation and get a good laugh out of it. I guess I'm not going to hell after all.

I'm selling myself on eBay again...

A Psychic Reading Unlike Any Other

I just couldn't help myself, especially after reading this listing. For some reason, it cracked me up. I wonder if the camera in her psychic nostril helps her see things.

This morning, I had my first-ever driving lesson. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. If nerves were dollars, I think I would have had more money than Bill Gates and Donald Trump combined! I tried distracting myself with several games of Sponge Bob Collapse, it didn't help. I tried taking a hot shower. All that did was leave me wound up and soaking wet. I tried deep breathing and relaxation. I tried meditating. I tried everything I could think of short of standing on my head and whistling "Dixie", to no avail. I was WIRED!!!

So, the moment of doom arrives. I walk outside and see the Student Driver car ready and waiting for me in front of the house. There's no escaping it now. My fate is sealed. I have to get in the car. Worse yet, I have to get in the driver's seat! I'm thinking "Can't I just watch this time?" But no, watching is what I've been doing all these years. I took a deep breath and parked my butt behind the steering wheel. I can't even tell you what kind of car it was, other than that it was gold-toned, with the name of the driving school in yellow (why they chose yellow on a gold car is beyond me), and the words "STUDENT DRIVER" across the back. Made me think of the old three-wheeled bicycles with the huge "HANDICAPPED" signs in the back.

Now, before I continue with my actual driving adventure, I must take a moment to mention that my driving instructor for the day looks like a cross between Jabba the Hud and one of the Orcs from Lord of the Rings. He smelled about as good, too. He also kept talking about me in the third person. "Now, if Carol wants to make a turn, Carol turns on her directional, checks to make sure the way is clear, and begins making her turn." I wonder if they teach them that at the driving school.

So, Jabba the Orc shows me how to work the directionals, how to shift into gear, where the gas and brake pedals are, and about a bazillion other things that I somehow am supposed to remember all before moving an inch. Then he says "Are you ready?" READY??? You mean I actually have to DRIVE??? All I could think of was "Oh... SHIT!!!" So, I put my seatbelt on, after all I'm a student driver and I sure as hell don't trust myself behind the wheel of a moving vehicle, besides, it's the law, take a deep breath, and turn the key in the ignition, turn on my left signal, check my mirrors and look over my left shoulder, put the car in drive and start moving. If I ever felt like one of "Jerry's Kids", this was definitely the moment.

Somehow, by the grace of God and whatever guardian angels were up and protecting innocent bystanders this morning, I manage to pull out of the parking space and onto College Point Boulevard. To say it's a narrow two-way street is putting it mildly! But, I made it to the corner, my first STOP sign, and actually made a right turn, all without hitting anything or anyone! Mind you, I'm driving at the overwhelmingly high speed of about 10 miles an hour, and as I'm cruising along, some moron behind me starts beeping at me. Without missing a beat, I blurted out "It says STUDENT DRIVER ya dumbass!" Guess I got the swearing at other drivers thing down pat, huh?

The rest of the drive was uneventful - I maneuvered my way around about five potholes, made my way around a double-parked car on a narrow street, stopped the car when some moron ran a stop sign in front of me (without jamming on the brakes and giving the instructor whiplash, I might add), drove on one of the busiest streets in my neighborhood, and somehow managed to make some pretty tight turns, without any roadside casualties. As we were getting close to my house, who did I pass, but my landlord, on his way out. I think seeing me behind the wheel of a car heading in his direction may have made his life flash before his eyes for a few seconds, until I was safely past.

I STILL can't believe that I actually drove a car for 40 minutes out of the 45 minute lesson AND pulled into a parking spot in front of my house! The reality of it just hasn't sunk in yet. Was it scary? HELL, yes! But not as scary as I thought it would be. In my mind, I had imagined myself driving the way I play racecar video games - crashing into every possible object in sight. Fortunately, the reality was nowhere near as bad as I had imagined!